


They All Got The Same Heartbeat (His Is Falling Behind)

by noos



Category: Football RPF
Genre: F/M, High School AU, Hints of Mats/Benni, I can't explain this, I don't know, M/M, bff Mario Ann and Andre
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-15
Updated: 2015-04-15
Packaged: 2018-03-23 02:58:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 22,062
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3751897
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/noos/pseuds/noos
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If Mario truly thinks about it - and he doesn't like to think about it because that's when his dramatic side comes out - then he can admit to himself that he's been in a perpetual state of boredom since the third grade.</p>
            </blockquote>





	They All Got The Same Heartbeat (His Is Falling Behind)

**Author's Note:**

> I have absolutely no excuse for this. It kind of crept up on me and developed into a monster. I really don't know what to make of it, but I hope you like it more than I do. English is still not my first language and this thing is probably crawling with typos that I'll get around to correcting later (which means I'll never actually do it).
> 
> Title from the Echosmith song.

"Quiet, Mr. Hummels! Eyes on your own work."  
  
Across the room, Mario rolls his eyes for the tenth time in less than an hour. Why won't his idiot classmates get that if they manage to sit still and be quiet for just a few minutes, detention will be easier for everyone? He's had to read the same page three times now because Thomas fucking Müller cannot keep his mouth shut.  
  
Mario watches annoyed as Mats snickers into his palm and Thomas howls loudly when Marco throws a pen at him before turning back to his work.  
  
"Mr. Müller, get ba-"  
  
The teacher is interrupted by the bell before he can get another word in, and he watches helplessly as Thomas, in his haste to get out of the room, trips over his own feet and nearly knocks his head into a nearby desk. Mario looks up at the noise as he packs his books into his bag and his eyes meet Marco's for just a second before the latter bends down to help Thomas up, looking thoroughly annoyed at the world. Mats pats them both on their backs, steering them out the door and into the hallway.  
  
It's not that Mario doesn't get it. They're young and in high school and it's their last year before graduation, and okay, he might not like them a whole lot, but he's not blind, some of his classmates are pretty decent-looking. In the case of Mats Hummels, that means sculpted like fucking Greek statue, but Mario's not looking to go into detail here. The point is, they're living out their idea of a senior year (or more like the Hollywood version of a perfect senior year) and Mario gets it. He just wishes he did not have to be there while they did so.  
  
Mario's aware that he sounds like a pretentious douchebag, but he can't help it. He's not a loner by any means, is not depressed, doesn't have daddy issues of any kind. His parents have known that he's gay since he realized it himself, have accepted him for it like they'd accepted that his eyes are brown. He's got his fair share of friends, he likes reading and football and headphones and sneaking in a cigarette every now and then, and he can be as shallow as any of them on a good day. It's just that he's _bored._  
  
If he truly thinks about it - and he doesn't like to think about it because that's when his dramatic side comes out - then he can admit to himself that he's been in a perpetual state of boredom since the third grade. He'd started getting into all kinds of trouble around that time, from skipping homework to skipping classes to skipping school altogether, and that's when his teachers realized that he "wasn't feeling challenged enough." His parents took him to what he likes to think of as a fancy-looking psych ward, and it was there that some decorated physician determined that he was simply too smart for his grade. So he skipped fourth grade and found himself in fifth grade the next year. It got better, if only for a short while, but then it was pretty much the same. He had the answer to everything before his teachers explained their lessons, he skipped homework but never failed his tests and he had to correct his English teacher on several occasions. By that time, both his parents and his school were better equipped to deal with it, and the year after he found himself in seventh grade. He hasn't skipped grades since, but he's had to change schools. His parents tell him it's because Dortmund Prep is much more academically advanced than his old school, but he's pretty sure it has nothing to do with that and everything to do with his old English teacher having a nervous breakdown after he refused to hand in his final exam lest she corrects the several "typos" - it's not a typo when it's _grammatically_ wrong, he argued - he found in the exam questions. It's not his fault she was an inadequate teacher. Long story short, he moved to his current school the year before. He still hasn't been taught anything he didn't already know, but he's gotten better at making everyone think he's actually learning something. He makes sure to mark a few answers wrong every test or two, he doesn't talk much in class, and he definitely doesn't correct his physics teacher's many, many, many mistakes.  
  
"Mario!"  
  
He's snapped out of his thoughts by a familiar voice, and he turns to find Ann making her way over to him. He's standing by his locker now, and he cracks the combination before he stuffs his books on the shelf and takes out his black hoodie. He's pulled it on by the time his statuesque friend is standing next to him.  
  
"Where are you going?" She asks as she watches him take out his headphones before adjusting his backpack.  
  
"Home."  
  
"You promised you'd watch football practice with me and André," she argues, jutting her lips out in her most innocent pout.

He really doesn't know why it was that Ann - or AK as everyone called her, but he refuses to use that revolting nickname to address her - basically adopted him, but she came up to him on his second day at Dortmund Prep and announced that she'd be willing to be his beard if he wanted. Mario hadn't even known her then, but he'd argued that if he was in fact trying to hide his sexual identity, then pretending to go out with her would be a dead giveaway, because there is not a world in which someone like her, with her immaculate curls and perfect features, would be interested in someone like him. Ann had let out a very un-girly snort at his comment and Mario decided that he liked her right then and there. Anyone who can look like a model and laugh like an alcoholic is welcome to join his brigade of losers.

"Okay, first of all, you look like you're going to a photoshoot rather than football practice," Mario shoots at her, eyeing her up and down. She really does look camera-ready with her short shorts and high ponytail. "Second, I just got out of detention, haven't I been punished enough for one day? Besides, I don't want to spend another afternoon with you and André just so you can eye-fuck Mats Hummels and André can stand next to Montana thinking that that actually constitutes as flirting," he sighs, already aware he's losing the battle when Ann hooks her arm with his and starts dragging him not towards the school's exit, but towards the football pitch.  
  
"Okay, ew," Ann says, scrunching up her face and even then she still looks unfairly pretty. "I have not eye-fucked Mats Hummels since he started dating Benni last month-"  
  
"Mats and Benni?" Mario gasps, because genius or not, he likes a good piece of gossip as much as the next person.  
  
"Yes!" Ann's wide grin suggests she's perfectly aware she's won, and Mario sighs as they continue making their way to the pitch. They're outside now, the sun still shining bright and hot, and he can see the football team already warming up in their yellow and black gear. "I've moved on to Mario Gomez."  
  
Mario groans despite himself, wrinkling his nose in disgust.  
  
"I thought you had more sense than that," he mutters, squinting at the sun, following Ann as she starts climbing up the bleachers. Mario spots André a bit further up, practically drooling as he stands there gazing pathetically at Montana as she walks with a few of her friends on the other side of the pitch.  
  
"Hey, he might not be the sharpest tool in the shed, but have you seen those abs?" Ann says, stopping at the top row to wait for him. "Besides, don't think I didn't see you checking out Reus' derrière on our way here."  
  
"Please don't use the word derrière," Mario begs, squinting at the sun with all the hate he can muster. "It brings out a new level of douchy in you. And just because he's a tool, doesn't mean I can't appreciate his butt."  
  
"Ugh, why are we talking about Reus' butt again," André groans as they finally reach him.  
  
Mario side-eyes him before he spots Montana approaching the bleachers with her friends. He's feeling particularly evil after his conversation with Ann, so he doesn't think twice about it before he calls out to her. "André wanted to ask you a question  about our math assignment," he declares when Montana turns to look at him.  
  
He raises an eyebrow at André and he can see Ann snicker next to him. André looks mortified to say the least, a rather forced smile plastered on his face making him look like he's in intense pain. The sweat gathering on his forehead and his paling complexion don't help, but Mario pushes him lightly towards the girl in question as she makes her way over to them with a smile on her face.  
  
"Go get 'er, tiger," Mario whispers before taking a positively glowing Ann by the hand and pulling her a bit further away from them.  
  
"That was uncharacteristically nice of you," Ann finally says as they settle on the bleachers.  
  
Mario props his legs up on the seat in front of him and Ann does the same, crossing her ankles. He throws another look at André only to see him rub his neck awkwardly, but the smile on his face doesn't seem so forced anymore, and Montana looks like she's just as nervous as his poor friend.  
  
"Yeah, well, they don't call me the looove doctor for nothing," he drawls like a bad cowboy impersonator and Ann barks out a laugh next to him.  
  
"Who has ever, in the entire history of mankind, called you the love doctor?"  
  
Mario opens his mouth to answer, but is interrupted rather rudely by a football almost smacking him in the face. The ball lands right in the middle between him and Ann, making them both jump.  
  
"Holy fucking shit," Ann howls, holding a hand to her heart before erupting in laughter, and Mario can't help but join her.  
  
_Holy fucking shit indeed._  
  
He manages to pull himself together long enough to pick the ball up and turn towards the training grounds. He find Mats and Marco standing at the edge on the bleachers, looking up at them.  
  
"Sorry, AK!" Mats apologizes, waving awkwardly at them. "Marco here got a little too excited with his passing drills."  
  
"Yeah, sorry about that, Sunny," Marco adds, looking Mario right in the eye, his trademark one-sided smirk making an appearance.

He looks particularly appealing today with his sleeves rolled up and his knee-high socks unevenly clinging to his thighs, his hair almost golden in the sun, and Mario hates himself for even thinking it. He throws the ball rather forcefully at the blond, willing his blushing face to get a hold of itself. He feels even worse when Marco catches the ball way too easily before winking at him and turning back to join the others.

"Sunny, huh?" Ann smirks at him as he settles back in his seat, propping his feet up once again.  
  
"Shut up," he counters lamely, only causing her loud laughter to echo around the field once again.

  
\-----

  
"So, what are you being called in to the Principal's office for this time?"  
  
"I have no fucking clue," Mario mutters, shutting his locker before leaning back on it.  
  
"Did you get caught with a lit fag in your mouth again?" Nuri asks, starting to walk towards their next class with André in tow, and Mario pushes himself off the row of lockers to follow his friends.  
  
"Not since last week," he answers. "And Guardiola already confiscated my pack, ribbed me long and hard, _and_ gave me detention for that."  
  
"Long and hard, huh?" André's smiling a little too proudly at his pun and Mario wants nothing but to wipe that stupid grin off his face.  
  
"Yes," he replies without missing a beat. "Unlike yours."  
  
"Buuurn," Nuri drawls by his side, and Mario wonders not for the first time why he's friends with these people. "Anyway, you can't be in too much trouble if he's not in a hurry to see you," Nuri adds, his idea of being helpful. "He's told you to come by his office during lunch. Sounds more like business meeting than possible punishment to me."  
  
Mario shrugs half-heartedly, already sick of this conversation. He walks into his class, taking his usual seat next to Erik, Nuri and André settling on the desk behind him.  
  
Erik's nice. He's pretty shy which means he doesn't talk much, and when he does, he actually weighs his words before he utters them, something Mario appreciates greatly seeing as he's surrounded by morons all day long.  
  
"Hey Erik," Mario greets his lab partner who smiles at him in return.  
  
He hears a commotion on the other side of the room and groans audibly, already aware of the source without having to look. He does look anyway, because he's still curious to see what incredibly stupid thing his classmates are up to this time.  
  
Thomas is prancing around his desk, limbs awkwardly flailing as he dances to some imaginary tune in his head. His face looks somewhere between high and in pain, but knowing Thomas, he's probably just happy. Mario snorts despite himself, because regardless of whether he likes him or not, he does look pretty funny. Something that Lukas and Bastian seem to agree on, watching their friend and howling with laughter at his antics. Mario's eyes find Marco right behind them, and his chest tightens a little when he sees him next to Cathy, whispering god-knows-what in her ear, her fiery cheeks and predatory grin telling him all he needs to know. He can see her fingers under the desk roaming dangerously close to Marco's crotch, and he turns before he can do something stupid like go up to her and yank her away from the stupid blond boy.  
  
That was another thing. Mario's a smart guy. Some would even go as far as to call him a genius. He's reasonable, level-headed and practical, with feet firmly planted on the ground. And yet, all these qualities seem to fly out the window where Marco Reus is concerned. He doesn't like him. He really, really doesn't. The guy's an absolute jerk. He's infuriating, cocky as fuck, kinda, sorta really dumb too. He pisses Mario off. His hair pisses him off, his attitude pisses him off, those damn knee-high socks he wears for football training definitely piss him off. Even that fucking half-smirk gnaws at Mario's nerves. And don't get him started on that stupid nickname he's taken to calling him. Sunny. Where did he even get that? And where does he get off, giving him a nickname, when they've interacted a total of 25 minutes in the past year? Except that his stupid heart accelerates whenever their eyes meet, his palms sweat when Marco's nearby, and Mario's smart enough to know he's got a crush. Which is problematic in itself because for one thing, Mario doesn't even _like_ him, and two, Marco fucks anything with a heartbeat so no, Mario does not need that STD-infested-walking-hazard, thank you very much.  
  
Mario chances another quick look at the pair, and yep, Cathy's hand is definitely closing in on ground zero. Ugh, wasn't she trying to get with Mats just last week? Fucking Mats throwing everything off balance by officially announcing he and Benni are a couple. Who does he even think he is, announcing them as a couple like he's the queen of England and he's just found his majestic other half.  
  
Mario lets out another frustrated groan, turning back to his desk and wiping his palms on his jeans a little too forcefully. Erik looks at him with a slightly scared expression on his face and Mario throws him his best reassuring smile before the boy resumes staring off into space.  
  
"Cathy, please get back to your desk so that Mr. Müller can take his seat and save us all from having to watch his more-than-phenomenal dance moves for longer than necessary."

Mario has never liked Mr. Löw and his astounding lack of a sense of humor more than in that moment.

He turns to look at Marco one last time as his teacher sets his messenger bag on the front desk and makes his way to the board. Cathy's trudging sulkily to her seat while Marco's adjusting his pants with an irritated look on his face.  
  
The smile Mario throws at Erik this time is a lot more genuine.

  
\------

  
"Mario, come in!" Principal Guardiola greets him, getting up from his chair and ushering him towards one of the two seats in front of his desk. "I appreciate your punctuality."  
  
Mario tries to muster a smile as he settles in the seat, entirely too uncomfortable in the principal's office. It looks clean and smells nice enough, and the look on Guardiola's face suggests he's not in trouble, but he can never be too sure. There have been way too many occurrences already where he's been punished for things he did not believe were wrong.  
  
"How have you been?" Guardiola asks, and Mario nods at him.  
  
"Okay," he replies, trying not to sound too nervous.  
  
"Good, that's good," Guardiola says, a bit too cheerfully for Mario's liking. "Look, Mario, I'll get right to the point," he continues after a minute, a serious look crossing his features and making his forehead scrunch up weirdly. His balding head is practically glowing in the neon light and Mario gets lost counting the creases on his forehead. "I need your help. Or, well, the school needs your help. You know that we've got a tutoring program set up for kids in need, and I thought it would do both you and the school some good if you were a part of it."  
  
Okay. Tutoring program. Not exactly what he expected, but it could be worse.  
  
"I know you're not entirely happy with the school curriculum, and I know you will feel much more satisfied when you're finally out in the real world where you can absorb as much as you want of it, but until then, I think that helping out other students will do you as much good as it will them."  
  
"Okay," Mario agrees, unsure of what to say to that.  
  
"I'll start you off with one student, and if the results are good, maybe you'll help out others, and..." Guardiola's interrupted by a knock on his open doorframe. He looks up, his eyes lighting up somewhat considerably. "Ah, Marco. Late as ever, I see."  
  
Mario feels his heart hammer in his chest because if this is what he thinks this is, then he's in a fuck lot of trouble. He looks up at Marco as he stands in the doorway, looking just as confused as Mario feels, his eyebrows raised as he looks between him and their principal.  
  
"Marco, take a seat, please," Guardiola offers, ushering him towards the empty seat facing Mario. "I was just telling Mario that he's going to help you with your English class."  
  
"What?" Marco squeaks and Mario raises an eyebrow at him.  
  
"Marco." Guardiola's eyes are serious and focused when they look at the boy. "You're an excellent football player. And we love having you on the team. Your academic records, however, are less than stellar. The school requires athletes to keep at least a C-level in all classes. Right now, you're failing English, so if you want to stay on the team, you're going to have to up your game everywhere but on the pitch."  
  
There's a moment of quiet as Marco absorbs the news, and for a second, Mario can see a hurt look flash across his face, before it's replaced by his perpetually annoyed look.  
  
"Mario here is an outstanding student. He can help you get your grades up."  
  
"Alright," Marco concedes, rubbing his face with his palm. "How soon do we have to start?"  
  
"As soon as possible," Guardiola says, turning to look at Mario who has a blank look on his face. "I expect your grades to be up by your winter break."  
  
"That's in six weeks!"  
  
"Then you've got six weeks to cram, Mr. Reus."  
  
Marco lets out a thoroughly annoyed groan and Mario gets the overwhelming urge to hit him. This is not his idea of a good time either.  
  
"Thanks, Principal Guardiola," Mario mutters before picking his books up and all but running out the door. He cannot stand the put out look on Marco's face, like he can't even think about being in the same room as him.  
  
He's already out the door and in the hallway when he hears footsteps behind him.  
  
"Mario," Marco calls for him, but Mario steps up his pace. "Mario," his voice comes louder this time. He can hear his footsteps approaching and Mario's tempted to run. "Sunny!" He hears him call out and he's right behind Mario now.  
  
Mario's suddenly yanked back by his elbow and he feels himself getting angrier. He snatches his arm back, rubbing his elbow where Marco's fingers marked him just seconds ago.  
  
"Sunny-"  
  
"What?" He barks at Marco, his frustration reaching new levels at the nickname. "And stop calling me that!"  
  
"What are you so upset about?" Marco's voice is too calm for Mario's liking, and it only serves to irritate him more. "You're not the one who might get kicked off the team."  
  
Mario doesn't know what to say to that. How is he supposed to tell him that he's pissed off because he might like him a little too much for his own liking?  
  
"I'm just," he starts, unsure of what to say, trying to get his nerves under control. He takes a deep breath before he tries again. "My school record depends on this and I can already tell that you're not going to take this seriously."  
  
"Okay, first of all, I've seen you in detention more than I've seen you outside of it since you started going here, so please don't pull the school record card on me," Marco retorts, raising an eyebrow at Mario. "Second, stop being a judgmental ass, you don't even know me. Third, I will get kicked off the team if I don't do this, and since we're bound to get to know eachother a little better in the coming weeks, then I'll give you a little head-start: there is _nothing_ more important to me than football."  
  
"Fourth?" Mario replies expectantly when he sees Marco hesitate for a second, feeling a little more relaxed despite himself and crossing his arms over his chest defiantly.  
  
"What's wrong with Sunny?"  
  
Okay, Mario has to admit he's caught a little off guard here.  
  
"What?" He asks, trying to keep up with Marco but failing miserably. He's never failed at anything before so it's getting personal.  
  
"Why don't you want me to call you Sunny?" Marco asks, and the seriousness in his voice confuses Mario even more.  
  
"Wh-" Mario starts, trying to gather his thoughts, but Marco's infuriating smirk is starting to show itself which only makes Mario's heartbeat increase. "You just said it yourself, we don't really know eachother," he finally speaks, trying to come up with a better excuse than _because it makes me want to punch you in the face and then kiss you_. "Why would you want to call me Sunny?"  
  
"Because, that's what you are," Marco counters, and Mario wants to slap that smirk off his face. "You don't exactly look it right now what with that hissy fit you're throwing," Mario can feel an undignified squeak of objection bubbling in his throat but he's interrupted before he can unleash it on the world, "but I've seen you smile, and when you do, you look like the freaking sun."  
  
And okay, Mario chokes a little on his tongue because who the fuck says things like that? _Marco Fucking Reus, that's who._  
  
"Marco!" Mario hears before he can get a word in, and he turns to find Cathy coming towards them, waving a little too excitedly, her heels clinking on the tile floor. "I thought we were getting lunch together," she pouts at Marco, stopping right in front of him, not sparing Mario a second glance.  
  
"Yeah, sorry about that, I got a little held up."

Marco takes a hesitant step backwards, looking from her to Mario.

Mario just rolls his eyes at him before turning to go, pulling his headphones on in the process. This conversation is clearly over and he really doesn't want to stick around to watch Cathy molest Marco in the school hallway. He thinks he hears his name being called out, but he doesn't turn around to make sure, raising the volume up and heading quickly to the nearest exit.

  
\-----

  
He ends up sitting in the courtyard outside, under one of the larger trees, his headphones shielding him from the noises of the real world. It's warm enough for him to shrug his jacket off, the sun shining down brightly, and he has to squint to try and find his friends. He doesn't spot any of them, so he leans back against the tree, closing his eyes, trying to clear his cluttered mind of all the mess his earlier meeting with the principal has caused. What bothers him even worse is that he's never like this. He's usually so in control of his mind and body, so perfectly capable of deciding what to feel and when to feel it. Except where Marco Reus is involved. And he hates him all the more for it.  
  
He vows to himself then and there to not let it affect him. If he's going to be tutoring Marco for the next he-doesn't-know-how-many weeks, then he needs to get a firm grip on himself. He can't snap at him every time he talks to him, can't exactly growl at the boy every time he calls him Sunny.  
  
_Sunny.  
_  
He feels himself blush at the nickname. The way it rolls off Marco's tongue.  
  
_I've seen you smile, and when you do, you look like the freaking sun.  
_  
He feels the corners of his mouth lift up at the memory before he pulls himself together. _No_. This is _exactly_ what he's talking about. He cannot lose himself to this. He frowns a little forcefully instead, and he knows he must look ridiculous like this, lounging under a tree with his headphones, eyes closed and pissed off at the world.  
  
His headphones are snatched away from his head before he can think more on it, causing him to startle phenomenally. He opens his eyes to find Ann and André flanking themselves on either side of him.  
  
"Who are you fighting with in there?" Ann asks with a smile on her face, but Mario can see the worry in her eyes when she reaches out to smooth out the wrinkle between his eyes.  
  
"Nobody," he mutters, allowing himself to relax under his friend's comforting touch.  
  
"Is this about the meeting with Guardiola?" André asks on his other side, pulling out three paper-wrapped sandwiches and offering one to each of them.  
  
Mario takes his food, smiling gratefully at André before nodding his head a little. "Sort of," he starts. "I'm supposed to start tutoring Marco in English," he continues trying for a casual tone. He checks his sandwich for tomatoes, and takes a bite of it when he finds none in sight.  
  
"What?" Ann gasps, straightening up and looking at Mario with eyes as wide as saucers. "Marco Reus?"  
  
"Buns of Steel?" André asks at the same time and Mario can't stop himself from barking a laugh at the old nickname.  
  
"The one and only," he confirms and both his friends look a little less dumbfounded but still very much shocked. "His football future depends on his grades," Mario explains. "And his grades apparently depend on me."  
  
"Well, Cathy's certainly not going to appreciate you cutting her Marco time short," André says after a while, and Mario sees Ann wrinkle her nose at him.  
  
"Yeah, she has been kinda up his ass ever since Mats blew her off, hasn't she?" she asks, chewing on her food thoughtfully.  
  
"That's an understatement," André mutters, and Mario tries to keep a perfectly neutral look on his face, not wanting his friends to get a whiff of his potential feelings for the boy. "She was practically sucking him off in bio this morning."  
  
"I'm pretty sure he's not interested," Ann says, taking another bite of her sandwich.  
  
"Oh please." His perfectly-crafted indifferent facade comes crashing down with that spectacular snort he lets out. "It's Marco. She's got a pulse. He's interested."  
  
"Nope," Ann argues, shaking her head vehemently. "I've known Marco Reus my whole life. I was the target of his interest for a pathetic two weeks in seventh grade. This is not how he acts when he's into someone."  
  
André shrugs and Mario keeps quiet. He really does not want to draw attention to himself by getting unnecessarily ranty about this.   
  
"So, are you going home?" Ann asks after a few moments, and Mario's relieved at the change of subject.  
  
"I can't," he groans. "I've got detention."  
  
"Again?"  
  
"I fell asleep in history," he mumbles around his sandwich and Ann and André chuckle in complete and utter delight at his despair. God, he hates his friends. "It's not my fault the teacher bored me out of my brain!"  
  
"So you'll watch football practice with us then?" Ann asks, her hopeful voice almost enough to convince Mario, but not quite.  
  
"Not today." He shoots Ann his most apologetic look. Naturally, she doesn't buy it.  
  
"Fine," she shrugs anyway, pouting a little before leaning back against the tree to finish the rest of her sandwich.  
  
They finish their food watching the people around them and making fun of most of their classmates, and Mario feels himself finally relax. He's really grateful for Ann and André despite what he likes to pretend, especially when they help take his mind off a certain stupidly tall blond classmate of his.  
  
He heads to detention when the bell rings. It's just him and two other kids today, neither particularly talkative, so he proceeds to finish his homework within the first ten minutes. He kills the rest of his time by reading his entire physics book, and he's happy to find he actually learns a couple of things.  
  
He's rounding the corner towards the nearest exit after detention when he all but runs in to Marco. _Can this day get any worse?_  
  
"Hey! Watch it-" Marco starts, taking a step back and ready to fight when he notices it's him. "Oh, it's you."

Mario narrows his eyes at him but then remembers his thoughts from earlier.  
  
_Be civil._  
  
"How observant of you," he mutters instead, leaning down to pick up his book - a frayed copy of Fight Club - and Marco's jacket.  
  
"Thanks," Marco smiles at him when he hands him the garment. "I was actually hoping to run in to you," Marco says, looking at his watch, jumping from one foot to the other. "Although not quite so literally," he mutters before shaking his head like he's trying to clear his thoughts. "Anyway, I wanted to see what time you'd be at my house today?"  
  
"Wh-" Mario starts, furrowing his brow because _what?_  
  
"Or would you rather we go to your place?" Marco continues before he can get a word in. "Whatever suits you, I'm fine."  
  
"Today?" Mario finally manages to let out, his mind catching up to the conversation.  
  
"Tutoring," Marco says slowly, like he's talking to a toddler. "You. Me. I told you I'm taking this thing seriously."  
  
"Oh," Mario says dumbly. "Yeah, today's good. Your place is fine," he continues, trying not to panic at the prospect of being in Marco's house. Meeting Marco's family.  
  
"I was thinking we could just walk to my place after practice," Marco offers, pointing behind Mario towards the pitch exit. "I mean, I'm assuming you're staying to watch? I've seen you do it a lot with Ann and André, recently."  
  
Mario feels a flush creep up his neck despite himself.  
  
"It's nice though," Marco continues rambling. "I like it when you stay and watch."  
  
And just like that, all of those keep your composure pep talks Mario gave himself earlier fly out the window, and he feels his heart speed up at Marco's words. And shit, Marco's looking at him expectantly, so he should probably stop standing there like an idiot and actually say something.  
  
"Yeah," Mario utters and he wants to smack himself in the head because he's pretty sure he's got a vocabulary that surpasses that of most people and yet he can't remember words to use right now. Basic, uncomplicated, everyday words. "I'm, um, staying to watch. Yes. I mean, um, we can meet after. To go study."

_Fantastic, Mario. Seriously. Well done_

"Awesome," Marco says, grinning widely, and Mario's stupid heart skips a beat. _Get a fucking grip._ "Let's go then," the blond continues, walking towards the pitch and looking at Mario expectantly.  
  
To his credit, while he looks a little stunned at the entire encounter, Mario finally manages to get his legs to catch up to his brain and he starts walking alongside Marco.  
  
They don't speak on the way there, but Mario's surprised to find it's not entirely awkward.  
  
Ann and André are there on the first bleachers when they walk out onto the courtyard, and Mario can see Ann's face light up when she notices him heading over to the pitch.  
  
Mario smiles despite himself, bright and happy and relaxed, a low chuckle escaping him. They're at the edge of the pitch now, and Mario turns to look at Marco one last time before they separate.  
  
"See?" Marco says, pointing at Mario's face as he starts walking backwards. "Sunny."  
  
Mario watches Marco run off towards the field where his teammates are already warming up, and he can't keep the smile off his face. He sees Coach Klopp clap Marco on the back before sending him over to join the others.  
  
"I thought you weren't staying?" André questions as soon Mario's reached his friends, a knowing look on his face.  
  
"Yeah well, I couldn't let you idiots embarrass yourselves without me," he counters. "Yeah, okay, I have to tutor Marco later so I'm staying," he admits when Ann raises her eyebrows skeptically at him.  
  
"Remind me to send Marco a fruit basket for Christmas," Ann says and Mario barks out a laugh so loud that almost everybody turns to look at him. Surprisingly though, for probably the first time, he feels too happy to even care.  
  
Montana joins them after a while to André's greatest pleasure, and they spend the afternoon watching their classmates play - and by that he means laughing at everyone on the field - and Mario thinks he hasn't felt that okay with the world in a long time. He doesn't like to really think about the reason for that, laughing easily at André's jokes instead and poking Ann in the ribs when she catches him staring at Marco for too long.

  
\-----

  
They don't end up walking home. Mats offers to drive them instead, and while the ride is pleasant enough, Mario tunes out half the conversation when the dark-haired boy starts gushing about Benni. Mario doesn't know Mats well enough to judge, but he has to admit he would've never had him pegged as the gushing type. He soon discovers, however, that if he has to draw the heart-eyed-emoji in the shape of a human, it would be Mats Hummels talking about Benedikt Höwedes. And under any other circumstance, Mario would find that nauseatingly cute, but if he has to hear about Benni's perfect smile for another minute he might poke his own eyes out with a toothpick.  
  
By the time they're at Marco's doorstep, Marco fumbling with his house keys, all of Mario's previous excitement is gone and replaced by a very unwelcome nervousness.  
  
"Welcome to Casa Reus."  
  
Marco's standing in his hallway with the door open, waiting for Mario to step inside the house, and the only thing the latter can think about is how this is the douchiest welcome he's ever heard. But then again, it is Marco Reus, so he shouldn't be that surprised.  
  
"Marco?" Comes a girl's voice as soon as the door's closed behind Mario, and Marco groans, an annoyed look coloring his features as he throws his duffel on the ground under the cluttered coat rack. "That better be you in there or I'm going to- oh, hi!" The girl in question appears through a door to Mario's left and stops as she spots him. "And who might this chubby-cheeked creature be?" She asks, a curious smile on her face, and Mario feels himself blush under her scrutiny.  
  
"Mario, this is Melanie, my sister," Marco introduces dully as he toes off his cleats next to the bag. "Mel, this is Mario."

And wow, Mario would've never guessed Melanie's his sister. She looks nothing like him. She's curvy where Marco's stick-thin, her brown hair and round cheeks so far off from her brother's ashen hair and fair complexion. But Mario feels warmth emanate through him when she smiles at him, the same kind he feels - and Mario won't admit to that even under torture - when Marco's crinkling eyes and teasing smile show themselves to him.

"Mario?" Melanie asks, eyeing the boy from head to toe.  
  
"Götze," Marco answers before Mario can say anything. "And stop harassing him, Mel," he adds before pulling Mario by the elbow and dragging him into the room Melanie just came out off.  
  
Mario trails behind Marco as they make their way, his arm tingling under Marco's fingers, Melanie's footsteps behind them.  
  
"Hey Caro," Marco says as they pass by a blond girl sitting in what looks to be the living room, and her dismissive wave is the only sign that she even hears him.  
  
They go through another doorway and wind up in the kitchen where a woman - and Mario's going out on a limb here, but he's guessing Marco's mother - is rifling through a cupboard. Marco finally lets go of Mario's arm and heads over to the fridge, leaving him to stand awkwardly in the middle of the kitchen, Melanie skidding to a stop right next to him, eyes still raking him in, the amused grin a fixture on her face.  
  
Marco's mom pulls out a can of what looks like corn before she closes the cupboard and takes a step towards the kitchen island, startling when she finally spots their new guest. She smiles tentatively at him, her eyes only leaving him for a second to look at Melanie and then Marco who's barely visible behind the fridge door before fixing Mario with another smile.

"Hello there."  
  
"Hi." Mario can swear his face in on fire when he waves awkwardly at her.

"Mom, this is Mario, my friend," Marco mumbles as he pulls out two cokes from the fridge. "He's here to help me study for English."  
  
"Mario Götze?" Melanie asks, a look of recognition crossing her features. "Wait, Mario as in Fabian's genius little brother?"  
  
"You know Fabian?" Mario asks, finally regaining his voice.  
  
"We have a few courses in common at uni," Melanie explains, waving her hand around and a fond look crosses her features. "He won't shut up about his brother who's skipped two grades." Did Mario say he was on fire before? He's definitely reached volcanic lava heat level now. "No wonder he's here to tutor your ass," she adds, turning to look at her brother, and Mario can't help but notice how Marco's looking at him like he's just solved all of life's mysteries.  
  
"Melanie, language!" Marco's mom scolds before turning to look at Mario again. "It's nice to meet you, Mario."  
  
"You too, Mrs. Reus," Mario replies. He means it too. Marco's mom's hair is the exact same shade as her son's, her eyes warm and her smile bright and contagious.

Mario doesn't know what to do after that, staring awkwardly at Marco's mom as she fishes for a can opener from a drawer, and his palms are so clammy around the strap of his bag that he worries for a ridiculous second that they will soak through the nylon.  
  
"Alright, well, we'll be in my room studying," Marco announces and Mario breathes a sigh of relief.

Marco grabs a bag of chips off the counter before pulling Mario by the elbow and out the kitchen door.  
  
He only lets go of him when they're back in the main hallway, turning to head up the stairs with Mario in tow. Marco's room is the only one to the left of the staircase. He opens the door and steps inside before Mario follows him in. The room is not at all what Mario imagined, and yet so very Marco that he wonders why he thought it would be anything else. The walls are a dull beige color, but the bed sheets are a mix of black and the brightest shade of yellow. The bed's to the furthest end of the room, cluttered with clothes and some school books. There's a desk by the window where a stack of what looks like sports magazines rests next to a laptop and a corkboard on the wall with pictures on it. The desk chair is barely visible under a mountain of clothes, and there's an impressive collection of footballs and cleats resting at the bottom of the open wall closet.  
  
Marco sets the chips and cokes on his bedside table before trying to clear some space on the bed, throwing his school books on the floor and his clothes on top of the substantial pile on the chair.  
  
"Make yourself at home," he ushers to his bed.

Mario stands awkwardly in the doorway for a few more seconds before finally taking a few shy steps towards the mattress. He pulls off his backpack and leaves it on the floor before he makes his way to the bed and plants himself on the very edge, hands clutching the sheets on either side of him as he takes in the room, his features still contorted into what he knows is an uneasy look.

"I won't bite if you make yourself comfortable," Marco comments, raising an eyebrow at Mario before handing him a coke.  
  
"Thanks," Mario whispers. He hesitates for another heartbeat before shrugging and toeing his shoes off.  
  
He's going to spend quite a lot of time in this room in the foreseeable future, so he might as well learn to start getting comfortable.  
  
He pulls out his English notes from his backpack and proceeds to lift higher up on the bed until his back hits the wall. He props the notebook up on his knees before opening his can and taking a sip.  
  
Marco soon joins him on the bed, firing up his laptop and handing it to Mario before settling himself in an identical position right next to the boy, close enough for their arms to be touching, and Mario feels his cheeks flush despite himself.  
  
"So, your brother knows my sister." Mario appreciates Marco's efforts even if he's not particularly fond of small talk. They don't know much about eachother other than that they go to the same school, so they've got to get the ball to start rolling somehow. "Well one of them at least."  
  
"The girl in your living room, Caro?" Mario asks. "That's your other sister?"  
  
"Ugh no," Marco groans at him. "And thank fuck for that. Caro's way too high maintenance for us mere mortals," he mutters to himself and Mario's dislike for the girl creeps up on him. "She's Mel's best friend. She mooches off my sister, so she practically lives here. My other sister, Yvonne, is married. She lives a bit further up town."  
  
"Oh."  
  
"Care to explain the genius thing then?" Marco asks after a moment, opening the bag of chips and offering some to Mario.  
  
"Genius might be overdoing it a bit," Mario mumbles a little uncomfortably as he shovels some cheese puffs into him mouth. Truth be told, this is not his favorite subject to talk about.  
  
"But you've skipped two grades?" Marco asks and Mario nods faintly. "That's genius in my book."  
  
"You're failing English," Mario huffs, raising an eyebrow at the blond. "You're hardly a reliable reference. And anyway, we're not here to talk about me," he continues, trying to change the subject. "We have to get you that C by winter break."  
  
"B" Marco corrects and Mario turns to him with a questioning look on his face. They're so close he can see the flickers of brown in his green eyes, but Mario tries not to focus on that. "I failed my last exam. I need at least a B on the next test."  
  
"Well then we better get started," Mario sighs, handing Marco his notes. "Okay so we're doing figures of speech right now," he starts, straightening up a little to look at his notebook on Marco's leg. "Which part are you stuck on?"  
  
"The whole thing," Marco groans, furrowing his brow. "Why won't these pesky ancient poets just fucking say what's on their minds instead of beating around the bush?"  
  
"People don't always say what's on their mind," Mario mutters and he tries not to think about how much he can relate to that. He focuses on Marco's long fingers instead, almost mesmerized by the nimble digits as they tap rhythmically on one of the corners of the notebook.  
  
"I do."  
  
"You know, figures of speech are a lot easier to understand once you know what you're looking for," he tries again, taking a different route.  
  
"But I don't know what I'm looking for."

Marco groans again, frustration evident on his face, and Mario realizes for a second that he might have misjudged him. He really does look like he actually cares whether he understands this shit or not.

"Alright," Mario says, bumping Marco's shoulder to get him to look at him. He feels his heart skip a beat when he does, his breath slightly catching in his throat before he shakes it off. "Who's your favorite Hip Hop artist?"  
  
"That's pretty assumptive," Marco shoots at him. "How do you know I like Hip Hop?"

"Your fashion sense is somewhere between wannabe gangsta and interpretive dancer. If you're not into Hip Hop then you've got some serious issues."  
  
Mario can't bottle in his smile when Marco lets out a loud surprised laugh.  
  
"Touché," the blond concedes, taking a minute to compose himself before flashing Mario a grin. "I don't know, though. I can't pick just one."  
  
"Alright." Mario straightens up a little, pointing at the iPod on Mario's bedside table. "Put this on shuffle," he orders, and it takes Marco a few seconds to react. He picks his iPod off before turning to stare quizzically at Mario. "Just do it," he urges, and the blond finally does as he's told. "What's the first song playing?"  
  
"Hey Ya by Outkast. I like this song," Marco says, smiling at Mario.  
  
"I do too. Now google the lyrics for me," Mario tells him returning the smile.  
  
"Here." Marco props up the laptop between them once he's done.  
  
Mario swallows audibly when Marco scoots closer to him, pushing their knees together under the laptop. He shakes his head a little to gather his thoughts before looking back at the screen.  
  
"Alright, let's scroll down to that last part," he says, pointing towards the last couple of lines. "When he says 'Now all Beyoncés and Lucy Lius and baby dolls, get on the floor',  does he literally mean that? Like does he literally want Beyoncés and Lucy Lius and baby dolls to get on a floor?"  
  
"No, not literally," Marco answers dutifully.  
  
"What does he mean then?"  
  
"That he wants the pretty girls to start dancing."  
  
"Exactly," Mario agrees, smiling. "So Beyoncé and Lucy Liu is a metaphor for pretty girls just like get on the floor is a metaphor for start dancing. Someone like Shakespeare or Keats would say something fancy like 'fairest jewels amongst them all' to point out pretty girls instead, but it would still mean the same."

"Makes sense."

"Can you find another metaphor for me in the lyrics?"

Marco looks a little unsure at first, but then he visibly relaxes at Mario's encouraging nod.   
  
"I think," he starts, "when he says 'Lend me some sugar, I am your neighbor'."  
  
"And why is that a metaphor?" Mario asks.  
  
"Because he's not actually talking about the sweetener, he wants her to give him some love." Mario turns to look at Marco, and the unsure look he gives him is so unlike the confident blond he associates Marco with that Mario startles. He wonders for a wild second how weird it would be if he just hugged Marco right now.

"There you go," he says, grinning at him instead, and Marco looks like a kid who just discovered ice-cream. They stare at eachother for a little longer than necessary, their breathing a little too loud in Mario's ears. He clears his throat and turns to his notebook again. "Now let's look at this verse from Poe's 'The Raven'," he points at the bottom of the page where the words are written. "'And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon.' Can you find the metaphor?"  
  
"Ghost," Marco answers quick enough to actually impress Mario. "Because he's not talking about an actual ghost, but the fire."  
  
Mario can't stop the proud grin that takes over his face if he tries. He nods at Marco and the latter's eyes light up once more.  
  
"It's that easy?" he asks, his eyes darting from Mario to the notebook and back again.  
  
"It's that easy."

Mario lets out an undignified squeal when Marco tackles him in a hug before dissolving in a fit of giggles.

  
\-----

  
Marco's not a dickhead, Mario comes to learn in time. He's slightly arrogant and has a dirty sense of humor, but he laughs easily and generously showers those he cares about with affection.  
  
The next few weeks pass by in a blur and Marco becomes somewhat of a fixture in Mario's life. They don't spend too much time together at school, but they still acknowledge eachother a lot more. Mario finds himself sitting together with Marco and Thomas in detention on more than one occasion, and sometimes Mats and Marco hang out with Mario and Ann before practice.  
  
Afternoons are an entirely different story, however. Mario starts coming by Marco's house everyday and by the end of the second week Mario can swear he knows every detail about Marco Reus. He quickly overcomes his mumbling tendencies and starts to feel more relaxed the more time he spends with Marco. Talking comes easy to them, and Mario's especially surprised to learn they're so much on the same wavelength that most times they don't actually have to speak to understand eachother.  
  
Mario adapts so ridiculously fast to his new routine but he doesn't actually comprehend how much his time with Marco becomes a necessity until he's forced to deprive himself of it one day. It's Wednesday  and he's been tutoring Marco for four weeks now, when he has to bail on football practice and skip their studying session to help Fabian move into his new apartment. Hanging out with his brothers is something he looks forward to, but on that particular day he feels so weird and out of place the entire time, fidgeting and on the edge the like he's not where he's supposed to be. He tries to brush it off and not think about it, emptying box after box with Felix and Fabian, refusing to acknowledge how ridiculous he's being.

His phone vibrates in his pocket just as they're unpacking the last of the stray boxes. He doesn't recognize the number on his screen when he fishes the device out of his pocket, but he doesn't dwell on it, shrugging lightly before taking the call.

"Hello?"  
  
"So, I was trying to work on the new Keats poem we're doing in English, and I think I managed to figure out everything."  
  
"Marco?" Mario asks into his phone, furrowing his brow.  
  
"Do you get regular calls about Keats poems and English homework? Cause I mean, if you do, then no, not Marco."  
  
"Smartass," Mario mutters but he can't keep the grin off his face. Marco is calling him. Like actually taking the time to pick up his phone and talk to him.  
  
"I missed you too, Sunny."  
  
If Mario's heart beats so fast at those words that he actually believes he might be having a heart attack, then no one has to know.  
  
"How'd you get my number?" His voice breaks a little at his inner freak-out but he hides it behind a cough.  
  
"AK," Mario replies matter-of-factly. "She's one tough cookie to crack, that's for sure."  
  
"What'd you promise her in return?" Mario asks, because if there's something that Mario knows, it's Ann, and she's not one to hand out favors for free. "And for the love of everything that's holy to you, stop calling her AK."  
  
"That I'd get you to go to Mats' party with us," Marco admits. "The one he throws every year right before winter break."  
  
"And how do you plan on doing that?" He can't help his amused tone. He is amused.  
  
"I figured I'd tell you how much Ann really wants you to be there," Marco says. "She really cares about you."  
  
"She does," Mario agrees, and he can't keep the fondness out of his voice. Ann is one of his best friends for a reason. "But you, my friend, are going to have to try a lot harder than that."  
  
"I do have a backup plan, you know."  
  
It's ridiculous how grounded Mario feels again by just hearing Marco's voice, like some of the missing puzzle pieces are fitting right back into place. And while he can admit that to himself now, he's still not willing to examine the thought closer than necessary for fear of what it might mean.  
  
"Oh yeah?" He challenges, snapping himself out of his thoughts.  
  
"Yep," Marco confirms. "I'll just drag you there."  
  
Mario chuckles. "That's not a very practical plan. Besides, I'll tie myself to my bed."  
  
"Ooh, kinky," Marco drawls and Mario's cheeks color significantly.  
  
"Shut up," he says lamely, trying to keep the embarrassment out of his voice. "I just don't see why I have to go and watch a bunch of stupid kids get drunk and rub off on eachother. I don't even like any of them and-"  
  
"I know, I know, grandpa," Marco cuts him off, a desperate tone to his voice. "You don't like any of them, you hate the world, school is your enemy, yada yada yada," he adds with a bored voice and Mario rolls his eyes. Marco quiets down for a second, and Mario can almost hear the clocks ticking in his head before he speaks next. "I know," he says suddenly. "I'll make sure Mats gets pretzels from that Bavarian place you like so much."  
  
"I'll be there."

  
\-----

  
They're at the edge of Marco's street two days later, heading over to his house to study, when the blond suddenly turns left, altering their course.  
  
"Marco?" Mario asks, stopping to look at Marco who continues to walk in the new direction, kicking his football at his feet.  
  
"We're not going home today," he throws at him, not even turning back to look his way.  
  
"What do you mean?" Mario asks, taking a few steps to follow Marco for fear of losing track of him as his friend starts jogging to catch up to the ball. "We have to study."  
  
"Not today," Marco says, stopping at the edge of what look like a park, and turning to look at Mario. "I'm going to teach you to play football," he yells at him from across the street.  
  
"Marcooo," Mario groans, jogging towards him. "We have to study, come on. I don't want to learn to play football."  
  
"We've been studying for almost a month now. We can take a break for one day," the blond argues, walking into the park.  
  
"Marco, I'm not even dressed properly," Mario tries, stepping up his pace to catch up to his friend's longer strides.  
  
"You're wearing sweats."

Marco raises his eyebrows at Mario when he's finally walking alongside him

"But I'm not wearing the right shoes either," Mario tries again, pointing exasperatedly at his feet.  
  
"It's not like you're in heels," Marco shrugs, dropping his bag next to the goal post. The park is awfully quiet, expect for a few kids playing on a set of swings on the other end. "You can shoot a goal in Chuck Taylors. Besides, I'm only going to teach you a few easy things. I know you refuse to be bad at something, but it's okay to let someone else show you the ropes sometimes. You can't be a genius at everything."  
  
And that's it. Mario's not a particularly evil guy, but he wants to wipe the teasing smirk off Marco's face so bad right now.  
  
"Alright," he concedes, throwing his backpack on the floor, before he removes his headphones from around his neck and stows them in its front pocket. "But start me off with something easy."  
  
"Yeah, yeah don't worry, I'm just going to teach you to shoot properly," Marco says, placing the ball at the edge of the penalty box. "This is not the crossbar challenge."  
  
"The crossbar challenge?" Mario asks, walking over to him.  
  
"It's just this challenge they do where you have to shoot at the crossbar instead of aiming for the goal," the blond explains.  
  
"Like the top bar of the goal?"  
  
"Yeah, but you have to be like a football fiend and super good at it to get the aim right," Marco adds, and Mario can tell he's already sick of this conversation.  
  
Mario doesn't say anything else before grabbing the ball and walking a bit further away until he's outside the penalty box. He takes a couple more steps to his left before he stops and places the ball on the ground.  
  
"Mario, come on, what are you doing?" Marco groans but Mario can see his ears perk up when he sees him taking a few steps to stand behind the ball. "Mario?" He asks again, and for the first time since he's met him, Marco looks utterly unsure of the world around him.  
  
"You might want to step out of the way," Mario states. He sounds like a jerk to his own ears but Marco had it coming.  
  
He flashes a grin at his friend before he turns his focus to the ball at his feet. He takes a deep breath before he starts running, aiming for it. He hits it where he knows the perfect angle for this kind of shot is, and Marco ducks as the ball flies right by him to hit the crossbar. Mario's grin grows wider when he sees his mission completed, and he looks back at Marco just as the latter is straightening up again, his eyes bulging out of their sockets, looking from Mario to the crossbar and back again.  
  
"You," Marco starts, his shell-shocked state all the explanation needed for his inability to talk properly. "Wha- how," he continues stuttering as Mario walks over to him. The ball is at Marco's feet again, having hit the bar and rolled over to where he's standing, still trying to form words.  
  
He moves over to claim it with his feet, but just as he's about to do so, Mario steals the ball with one swift movement. Marco looks at him again, eyes wide as saucers, and he moves towards him to take the ball, but Mario fields him once again. Their eyes meet and Mario can't stop from chuckling.  
  
"You little piece of shit!" Marco finally finds his voice before breaking into a smile and tackling Mario.  
  
"Marco!" Mario yells, unable to stop from laughing even as he feels himself lose balance and before he knows it, his back is on the grass, Marco landing heavily on top of him.  
  
"You condescending little asshole!" Marco continues to shout through his laughter, tickling Mario where he knows he'll feel it.  
  
"Mar- Marc..cooo" Mario yells louder, hiccupping the words through his own laughter that's echoing in the park, and he finally manages to push his friend off him.  
  
"You know how to play!" Marco accuses, the smile still plastered on his face as he gets to his feet and offers Mario his hand.  
  
"I never said I didn't." He takes Marco's hand and pulls himself up. "You just assumed."  
  
"You're a dirty little fucker."  
  
He pushes Mario once again, but this time he grabs him by the front of his shirt before the latter can fall on floor, pulling him closer to him instead.  
  
Mario feels the breath get knocked out of him when he finds himself chest to chest with Marco, his friend's eyes green and bright in the afternoon sun, looking at him like he's trying to see through his defenses. Mario tries to back away from Marco, the sheer intensity of his gaze frightening him, but Marco's firm hand on his chest keeps him in place.  
  
"What else are you hiding in there?" Marco whispers and Mario feels the hairs at the back of his neck stand up.  
  
They're so close Mario can count Marco's eyelashes if he wants to, and he feels like kicking himself for how cheesy he's being.  
  
Marco's fingers loosen their grip on Mario's shirt before the blond moves his hand to his friend's face. His thumb brushes Mario's cheek so fleetingly, his touch light and feathery and unsure, and Mario thinks he's imagining it. Marco's hand hovers near his face a second more before he finally backs away from him.  
  
"There are kids on the other end of the park," Mario whispers after clearing his throat. "You shouldn't swear in front of them."  
  
It sounded a lot smoother in Mario's head, teasing and playful, but he's so caught up in the moment that he barely manages to say it at all. Thankfully, Marco takes it as it is, chuckling as he finally steals the ball from Mario.  
  
"Quit yapping you smartass and show me exactly how good you are at this thing."

  
\-----

  
"Götze!"  
  
Mario turns to see who's calling out to him, and his jaw nearly drops when he spots Coach Klopp making his way over to him.  
  
It's been three days since Mario has seen Marco properly, not since he revealed to him just how good a football player he actually is. They spent that entire afternoon kicking the ball around, Mario entertaining Marco with stories about his antics with Felix and Fabian. They'd gotten so caught up in their time together that they only realized how late it was when Mario's phone started ringing off the hook, his mother's worried voice filling his ears when he picked up.  
  
They couldn't meet on the weekend since Mario had to go down to Bavaria with his parents, but they'd texted almost the entire time, Mario's phone glued to his fingers the whole trip.  
  
Today was no better as Mario had barely seen Marco the entire day, only catching him briefly in biology, but Cathy had planted herself firmly by Marco's side the entire time before Mr. Löw arrived to class, so Mario stuck to his desk only waving at Marco when the latter called out to him.  
  
He stayed with Ann and André to watch football practice, the thought of finally spending time with Marco after making him happier than he'd ever like to admit.  
  
The players went in to change when the training session was over, and Mario made his way to the front gate with Ann and André to wait for them. They were going to a grab a bite to eat with some of their classmates so they were waiting for them to finish when Mario heard Coach Klopp call his name.  
  
"Coach Klopp?" He asks, and he can't exactly hide his surprise from him as he makes his way over to him.  
  
"I hear you're a football wizard."  
  
Wow, the man really doesn't beat around the bush, does he?  
  
"What?" Mario tries to go for innocence, but he knows he's failing at it when Klopp smiles at him.  
  
_Damn you Marco._  
  
"Reus tells me you're good. I want you to try out for the team."  
  
"The football team?"  
  
"No, the classical ballet team. Yes the football team!" Klopp snaps at him and holy shit he's actually smiling and it terrifies Mario. "He says you're really good."  
  
"Marco has a big mouth," Mario mutters, an annoyed look crossing his features, and Klopp actually barks out a laugh.  
  
"That he does," he agrees, his eyes lighting up with what can only be described as fondness, and Mario warms up to the man. "But he's also got a sharp eye for talent."  
  
"I played for my old school for a few years," Mario admits finally, looking up at Klopp nervously. "I haven't done so in a while, though," he's quick to add. "I just kick the ball around with my brothers sometimes, but that's all there's been for the past few years."  
  
"I want you to try out for the team." Klopp repeats. "Tomorrow, right after class. This is not up for discussion. Guardiola thinks it's a wonderful idea." He shoots him one last look before turning to walk away. "Don't be late," he yells at him when he's a bit further away before continuing to make his way over to where Mario knows the shower rooms are.  
  
"What was that about?" André asks when Mario joins them again.  
  
"I'm trying out for the football team tomorrow," Mario says, a slight haze still keeping him from absorbing the news entirely.  
  
"Oh my God!" Ann shrieks out suddenly, jumping on Mario out of nowhere, and he barely manages to keep his footing to stop them from falling down. "You're gonna be a football star!" She yells is his ear, arms wrapped tightly around him, and Mario can't stop from laughing giddily. "This is going to be so awesome," she continues when she pulls away, keeping her hands firmly on his shoulders. "We'll watch you practice and I'll make glitter banners for the games and-"  
  
"Wow, Ann, calm down before you give yourself an aneurism," he cuts her off, but all he gets in return is a delighted cackle. "I might not even make the team," he adds as an afterthought.  
  
"Yeah, right," André mutters from next to them, the smile on his face suggesting he's just as excited as Ann.

  
\-----

  
To absolutely nobody's surprise, Mario ends up making the team. And when he says nobody, he means Marco, Ann and André, the only people who really matter. Everyone else is shocked to say the least, none more so than his new teammates, but Marco tackles him to the ground when Klopp announces the news, his smile brightening up the whole pitch, and Mario can't help the laugh that escapes him as he wraps his arms around his friend and takes him down with him. He can hear Ann's voice cheering somewhere in the background, and before he knows it the rest of the team is on them, welcoming Mario into their midst by crushing him in a manpile.  
  
They get off him just when Mario's vision starts blurring due to lack of oxygen, and Marco offers him a hand to help him up which he accepts happily.  
  
"I'm so happy you're on the team," Marco tells him honestly, wrapping an arm around his shoulder easily as they make their way over to the locker rooms.  
  
Mario smiles back at him, allowing himself to let his guard down for a moment, wrapping his arm around Marco's waist and squeezing a little.

"Hey," he starts, clearing his throat nervously. "Thanks, Marco. For pushing me to do this."  
  
"You're welcome, Sunny," Marco says, and the smile on his face gets impossibly brighter. "I don't know why you're so quick to hide out from the world," he continues, an unusually serious air to him. "But I don't think you should be so ashamed of being good at things."  
  
"I'm not ashamed," Mario argues weakly, his words faltering a little, and Marco stops and lets go of him before turning to stand in front of him.  
  
Mario feels inexplicably cold at the loss of contact, but then Marco's hands are on his shoulders, and he feels whole again. He's terrified of what that means.  
  
"Maybe you're not," Marco shrugs, looking him in the eye. "But you've built a wall so high around you that you won't let anyone see just how smart you are. Or how funny. You could be the next Miroslav Klose and you're trying to hide it, for fuck's sake!"  
  
"Okay, you have got to calm down," Mario tries to downplay Marco's words, the intensity in his eyes scaring him. "I am not the next Klose," he adds but Marco's smile darkens a little, and when he drops his arms from his shoulders, Mario feels his world grow dimmer. "Besides, I let you see how smart I am. I'm letting you in," he admits in a low whisper, reaching out hesitantly to play with one of the strings tied around Marco's wrist. "You're breaking down the wall." He lowers his gaze to focus on Marco's wrist under his fingers, his confession scaring even him in its sheer honesty.  
  
"Yeah," Marco whispers as he turns his wrist and hooks two fingers with Mario's before he can pull his hand away. "I'm glad." He squeezes lightly before letting go and turning to go change.  
  
Mario stays rooted to his spot, an uneasy feeling in his stomach. It's the simple truth of it that really scares him. Marco's breaking though to him, peeling that fence he's built around his heart layer by layer, and soon enough he'll be able to hurt him.  
  
"Are you coming?" The blond asks, stopping a bit further ahead and turning to look at him, an easy smile on his face.  
  
Mario smiles back before he makes his way over to him.  
  
Another layer gone.

  
\-----

  
Marco gets his second test result a week later, the last day before the break. He got a C on his first, which Mario was very proud of him for, but it was still not enough to get his overall average to a C. Thankfully, Guardiola had given them until winter break to get his grade up to par.  
  
Mario's digging through his locker for some books when Marco comes barreling into him, throwing his arms around him before pulling back and shoving a corrected test paper in his face.  
  
"A-!" He screams at him, clearly having a terrible time controlling his excitement. "You did it! You got me an A!"  
  
Mario laughs as he takes the paper from Marco, forgetting about his books and turning to look at his friend. "It's all you, darling," he drawls teasingly, Marco's excitement rubbing off on him.  
  
"This counts for half my grade which means I've got a C+!" Marco continues excitedly, before adding, "and I couldn't have done it without you."  
  
Mario swears everyone can hear his heart hammer in his chest at Marco's words, but he feels bold enough to lift himself higher on his toes and pull Marco into a hug. "I'm so proud of you," he whispers in his friend's ear, and he feels Marco snake his arms around his waist, palms warm and strong on his lower back even through the thick fabric of his hoodie.  
  
They stay wrapped up in eachother a lot longer than socially acceptable, but Mario doesn't care, especially not when he feels Marco bury his face in his shoulder, his warm breath tickling Mario's neck. The cold feeling he's grown accustomed to whenever Marco's not in close proximity makes an appearance when the blond starts to pull away, but before he can dwell on it, his friend's lips are on his cheek, the ghost of a kiss.  
  
"Thank you, Sunny," he whispers before he pulls away completely. He starts walking away from him before turning one last time to look at him. "I'll see you at the party tonight."  
  
"Yeah," Mario mumbles to himself a few seconds later, Marco long gone, leaving him standing dumbly in the hallway. He can't stop himself from running his fingers where Marco's lips had been a minute before, a secret smile gracing his lips, the flush on his cheeks a striking color. "I'll see you tonight."

  
\-----

  
He spends an extra fifteen minutes in front of his mirror that evening, fretting over his outfit and perfecting his hair. He's got a pair of dark jeans on, just the right amount of skinny, with a grey thick wool sweater and white high tops.  
  
He's got to leave the house in ten minutes and head over to Ann's to help her pick an outfit, which he's not particularly excited about, but according to Ann, "there is no point in having a gay best friend if he's not going to share his inherited fashion wisdom" with her. Mario had taken offense to that, but then conceded and agreed he's be there to impart his wisdom on the world.  
  
It takes Ann about an hour to finish perfecting her look, curling her hair and applying her make up just right. Mario's way past the point of being surprised when she looks like she's stepped off a runway when she's done, her high-waisted skirt and crop top showing just the right amount of skin.  
  
It takes him less than half an hour to get sick of the party once they're there, the only highlight being the pretzels he was promised, front and center in a cardboard box on the kitchen island, the words "DO NOT TOUCH - PROPERTY OF MARIO GÖTZE" scribbled in a thick dark marker on the front in what Mario recognizes as Marco's messy scrawl.  
  
He walks back into the kitchen to find another pretzel, but ultimately gives in, grabbing the box to go find a seat on the couch outside. The house is crowded with people, some of them way too old to be here, and Mario glares at everyone who so much as breathes his way.  
  
"Here," he hears someone say, and he looks up to glare at the offender, only to find Thomas standing in front of him, a red cup offered his way. "You look like you need it," he adds, plopping down next to Mario on the couch.  
  
"Thanks," Mario says, trying to muster a smile at his teammate, because he's come to quite like Thomas. He takes a sip of his drink and can't help but wrinkle his nose at the horrible taste before draining the cup in one go.  
  
"Easy," Thomas chuckles next to him, and Mario offers the box of pretzels to his teammate. "Thanks." He takes one out and bites into it. "These are really good."  
  
"I know," Mario mumbles, and he can't stop his eyes from wandering to where Marco is.  
  
The blond is sitting at the foot of the stairs with Cathy, his tongue so far down her throat Mario thinks he can probably feel her tonsils. For her part, Cathy has her hands on Mario's chest, roaming freely and grabbing possessively at his shirt, and Mario has the overwhelming urge to either hit her or go pry her hands away from Marco. He hates that he feels that way, hates that he can't stand to see Marco with someone else. His stomach rumbles uncomfortably, absolutely nothing to do with the six pretzels he's shoved down his throat already, but Mario blames it on that anyway. He hands Thomas the box before pulling himself off the couch, taking Thomas' drink with him, and he's out of the house before he can hear him object.  
  
He can't exactly leave because he's promised Ann they'd walk home together. But she seems to be having a great time with Gomez and he doesn't have the heart to go up to her and tell her he wants to be anywhere but here.  
  
He finds himself under a tree in Mats' backyard instead, the faint music from the house the only sound in the otherwise quiet night. It's too cold for anyone else to come outside, and Mario pulls his beanie out of his pocket, sighing happily when he finally covers his ears against the cold. He drains Thomas' cup before pulling a cigarette pack from his other pocket, shoving one in his mouth and fishing for the lighter. His fingers are freezing but he manages, closing his eyes and resting his head against the tree as he puffs on his stick.  
  
"That's where you ran off to?"  
  
He nearly jumps out his skin, having not heard anyone follow him, and he nearly chokes when he opens his eyes to find Marco making his way over to him, steps a little unsteady. He slides down next to him easily, taking the cigarette out of his hand and Mario's too shocked to react. Marco takes one drag of it before throwing the cigarette into his own cup, the liquor at the bottom effectively killing the small orange spark.  
  
"What are you doing here?" Mario asks when he finally finds his voice.  
  
"It was getting a little stuffy in there."  
  
"What, Cathy not giving you enough oxygen to sustain your pretentious ass?" Mario lets out and he hates himself for being so defensive.  
  
"Are you jealous, Sunny?" Marco asks, an amused smirk on his face, but he's slurring his words more than usual and Mario knows he's had too much to drink already.  
  
"No," Mario mutters, but his voice sounds too weak to his own ears.  
  
He feels a shiver run through him as the cold seeps in his bones and he shudders noticeably. He can see Marco shrug out of his jacket from the corner of his eye, and he turns to object but is met with the heavy garment slapping him in the face.  
  
"You need it more than I do," Marco interjects before he can say anything.  
  
Mario can't really argue. He drapes the jacket over his front, hiding his face in the collar. It smells so much like Marco that he almost wants to cry, but he refrains from doing so and turns to look at his friend instead. While Marco doesn't look as cold as he himself feels, he's still shivering slightly against the cold night air, and Mario feels a little bad for taking his jacket.  
  
"Here," he mumbles, feeling bolder all of a sudden and scooting closer to Marco. He drapes the jacket over the both of them before taking Marco's hands under the garment, rubbing his own over them to keep them warm.  
  
"Thanks." Marco's voice is so low he almost doesn't hear it, and when Mario turns to look at him again, he realizes just how close they are.  
  
He can see the faint freckles on Marco's nose, and all it takes is for the blond to lean in a few centimeters before their lips meet for the first time. Mario's brain stops working for a minute, his lips acting on their own accord, moving in time with Marco's. He feels Marco grip his fingers under the jacket and he can taste stale beer on his lips, but also something else, something that makes his stomach lurch, and it takes another few seconds for his mind to register the taste. Lipgloss.  
  
Cathy.  
  
He's on his feet so fast he feels slightly dizzy, and he has to lean against the tree for a second to steady himself. He takes one look at Marco, lips swollen and a confused look shrouding his features before he bolts into the house. He finds André on the dance floor with Montana, begs his friend to make sure Ann gets home safe, before he's out on the street walking over to his house. He allows himself to break down only when he's in the confines of his own room, crawling into his bed and burying his face in his pillow. He smells cigarettes and a little bit of Marco's perfume on his fingers, and he realizes just how completely fucked he is when he can't keep his hands away from his nose. He falls asleep trying not to cry.

  
\-----

  
When he wakes up the next day, he's still wearing his clothes from the night before. He tries not to remember the reason for that, tries to blink away the memory of Marco's lips on his, of Marco's hands in his, of Marco, Marco, _Marco_. He knows he's failed when he feels a wetness on his cheeks, and he allows himself only a few minutes to feel bad before he gets it together.  
  
He's got six texts and three missed calls, most from Marco, and he feels his heart squeeze inside his chest, the tiny spark of hope that's never truly gone threatening to grow again. He wants to crush that damn spark so bad.  
  
**_11:05 - Marco:_** _Where'd u run off 2?  
_  
**_11:12 - Marco:_** _Sunny, gettin really worried here  
**  
11:14 - Marco:** Mario?  
  
**11:23 - Marco:** André says uve gone home. So, yea. At least text me so I can know u got home safe?  
  
**00:43 - Ann -** Sugarbean, ready 2 go when u r. And boy, do I have a story 4 u!  
_  
**_03:36 - Marco -_** _sorry I kissed u  
_  
He reads the last text over and over again, until the words start sounding wrong in his head. He wonders whether Marco was still thinking about their kiss at three in the morning when he sent that text, or if he'd been making out with Cathy again when he remembered to send it.  
  
He forces the thoughts out of his head, dialing Ann's number instead. She picks up on the first ring.  
  
"Good morning, sunshine," she greets happily, and Mario winces at the nickname.  
  
"Hey Ann."  
  
"You're not okay," she announces, her voice taking a grave turn, and for the first time ever, Mario hates that she can read him so easily.  
  
"I will be," he whispers, a sigh escaping his lips.

Lying to Ann is not an option. Not only can she see right through him, but he doesn't believe that lying to those he cares about can do him any good. Except maybe when it comes to Marco.  
  
"What happened?" She sounds worried, and Mario wants to kick himself in the shin for it. "I'm guessing it has something to do with Marco." Mario's heart skips a beat at the name. "He was looking for you all over the place last night. He even called me at eight in the morning to make sure you got home safe." His chest hurts at the revelation, the reminder that Marco actually cares a little too painful. He just wishes he cared enough. "I had to call your mom to check that you were home."  
  
"Oh my god, Ann, you called my mom?"  
  
"Marco was pestering me about it!" She argues, her voice sounding slightly angry. "Besides, you weren't answering my calls either. I was worried too."  
  
"I'm sorry," he sighs again, guilt eating him up.  
  
"So what exactly did happen?"  
  
"I don't want to talk about it," he says honestly.  
  
"Fair enough," she concedes. "Look," she adds after a minute. "I don't know what happened yesterday between the two of you, but for what it's worth, I think you're making a mistake this time. Shutting him out won't do you any good. You know I love you to death, Mario, and I want you to be happy more than anything in the world, but you can't keep everyone out because they might make you sad someday."  
  
Mario marvels again at just how well Ann knows him. He hasn't even told her what happened or what the problem is, and already she knows. He just wishes he could believe what she's telling him.  
  
"I'll think about it," he decides. "Hey, listen, I think I'm going to go to Bavaria with my dad tomorrow."  
  
"But I thought you weren't going until next week with Fabian," Ann says. "We promised Mats and Marco to meet them at the Christmas Fair tomorrow and we've got André's pre-Christmas party in a few days," she continues weakly, and her voice suggests she's already aware this is a battle she's going to lose.  
  
"I really need to get away for a bit," he forces out and he feels so pathetic, running away like that, but he can't stay here. He hears Ann sigh in defeat, and he knows she won't try to get him to change his mind. "I'm sorry, Ann. I'll make it up to you."  
  
"My Christmas present better be worth you ditching me for two whole weeks."

She's making the effort to sound okay and Mario loves her all the more for it.  
  
"I'll make sure it does."  
  
They talk for a few more minutes before they hang up, and Mario feels better, if only slightly. He pulls out some fresh clothes and starts heading over to the bathroom before he stops to look at his phone. He stares blankly at it for a few seconds before he opens a new text.  
  
**To: Marco _  
_**_Hey. Going to Bavaria tomorrow morning so can't make it to fair. See you after break.  
  
_

  
\-----

 

That's the last time he tries to get in touch with Marco during the entire break. He does his best not to think about him, helping out his grandparents around the house, spending way too much time playing FIFA with Felix, and walking aimlessly around the streets of Memmingen to keep his mind off things.  
  
Christmas comes and goes, as does New Year's. Marco texts him a generic "Merry Christmas!" on the occasion to which Mario doesn't reply. It's his New Year's message, however, that makes Mario's heart beat so fast it threatens to fly out of his chest.  
  
**_00:03 - Marco:_** _Happy New Year. Hope ure having a good time wherever u r right now. I miss u  
_  
It's almost 2 am when Mario reads the message, and he spends a good five minutes staring at it before he stows his phones back in his pocket and spends the rest of his night convincing himself that he's not thinking about Marco the entire time.  
  
They get back to Dortmund two days later, and Felix finds a gift-wrapped package waiting at their doorstep. Mario doesn't think much of it as he starts grabbing some of their bags from the trunk, but then his little brother asks who Sunny is and Mario drops their luggage and stares at the package in Felix's hands.  
  
He locks himself in his room before he opens it, staring for a long time at the small note with "Merry Christmas, Sunny - M" on it before unwrapping the package. His heart is in his throat when he finds the Beats headphones that must've cost Marco a fortune, in the exact shade of purple that he wanted.  
  
He keeps the headphones in their box on his bedside table, and he lies on his bed for a long time staring at the ceiling. He's never felt so lost in his entire life, never felt his life so out of his control. He can't get his heart to stop hammering in his chest at the mere thought of Marco, can't get his mind to stop shouting murder at him at the mere thought of opening up to him, can't even get his fucking cock to not stand upright at the mere thought of Marco's sweat-slicked back. Damn organs and their nasty habits of not cooperating.  
  
The first few days back in school prove to be hell. Avoiding Marco when he's grown so accustomed to looking for him in the hallways is harder than he imagines. He feels the breath get knocked out of him when he sees him for the first time in bio, the memory of their kiss so clear in his head. Marco's eyes meet his for a second, his face brightening up with a smile that falters rather spectacularly when Mario's answering frown is all he receives. Mario feels like he's being punched repeatedly, Marco's saddened expression breaking through his defenses, but he refuses to give in completely, turning to join the conversation between Erik and André.  
  
He pairs up with Thomas at practice, avoiding Marco at all costs, and he's both relieved and saddened when it doesn't prove to be very hard as Marco seems to be over their friendship.  
  
On the third day back, Ann, André and Montana force him to grab a bite with them after practice. They're tucked into a booth at their favorite diner when Mario notices Gomez and Cathy making out by the old jukebox. He stares at the scene unfolding in front of him, trying to make sense of it, when Ann follows his line of vision.  
  
"Oh yeah." She shrugs. "That's been going on since the beginning of the break."  
  
"But I thought-" he starts, unsure of how to go on, eyes wide as he looks from Ann to the very disturbing - and he means _very_ disturbing, Cathy's moans are actually starting to be heard over the substantially loud music - PDA taking place in front of him. "And you and Gomez," he fumbles, looking at Ann again.  
  
"Me and Gomez nothing," Ann laughs at him. "Turns out that ridiculous ego is only there to make up for shortcomings that go way beyond his IQ."  
  
"What she means is he's got a tiny wiener," André whisper-shouts.  
  
"Oh please," Ann lets out a sound somewhere between a snort and a chuckle before rolling her eyes. "Tiny doesn't even begin to cover it," she mutters and André laughs along with her.  
  
Mario's still staring dumbly at the embracing couple to react properly.  
  
"Marco basically ditched her at the party, in case you were wondering," Ann remarks offhandedly, and while Mario knows that there's nothing remotely offhanded about her comment, it certainly grabs his attention. "I'm not exactly sure what went on. All I know is that one minute they were making out, the next he was telling her that he's not into it. It took her less than an hour to console herself though, latching onto Gomez like a Koala Bear to a tree."  
  
Mario feels his heart stop, knows what he's about to do is a really, really, really bad decision. He looks at Ann for a second more, and she stares at him, a knowing smirk lighting her features.  
  
"You've got to let someone in sooner or later," she whispers putting on her best fairy godmother face and it's all the encouragement Mario needs.  
  
He's out of his chair before he can think about it, pressing a quick kiss to Ann's hair and making his way towards the exit. He hears André ask him where he's going but he only waves him off before he's out the door and sprinting his way over to Marco's. He only stops when he's on his street, walking slowly up to his house to catch his breath.  
  
He knocks before he can think about what he's doing, but then a sense of panic washes over him, and he's about to turn and flee the scene when the door bursts open and Melanie's there.  
  
"Mario!" She cries out happily, pulling him into a crushing hug and Mario can't help but smile into her shoulder as he wraps him arms around her. She's so much like her brother and she doesn't even know it.  
  
"Hey Mel."  
  
"Where have you been my little chipmunk?" She asks, stroking his hair affectionately as she pulls away from him. "It's been too long since I've seen you here."  
  
"We went back to Memmingen for break."  
  
So what if he's not telling her the entire truth. He's not exactly lying.  
  
"Right," she nods at him. "Fabian told me you guys wouldn't be here for Christmas."  
  
Mario smiles at her for a few seconds before clearing his throat. He feels awkward standing in the doorway, but he can't exactly leave anymore. Might as well do what he came here for.  
  
"Is Marco here?"  
  
"Oh, yeah," Melanie says, moving to allow him in. "He's in his bedroom helping Caro figure something out on her phone. Come to think about it, they've been at it for a while now," she mumbles as she starts making her way up the stairs, Mario at her heel.  
  
Mario looks around as he climbs the staircase, a little concerned at just how much he's missed these steps and that cramped hallway, how familiar they've become to him. He doesn't dwell on that thought though, because suddenly he's got a bad feeling in his stomach that he can't seem to shake.  
  
"Marco, Mario's here," Melanie announces as they walk into the room.

Mario nearly walks into her when she stops in her tracks and starts wailing. He sidesteps her instead, and wow, this is so not what he had in mind when he decided to come here.  
  
Marco is lying on his bed with Caro half on top of him, engaging in what can only be described as a make out session. They pull apart when they notice the intruders and Mario can't do anything but stand frozen to his spot and stare at them with wide eyes. To his credit, he manages to keep his cries bottled up, even the ones bubbling in his throat, dying to be let out. It's like someone's emptied a bucket of ice water on him.  
  
"Eeeeeeww," Melanie cries next to him. "Ew, ew ew ew, no, no, so much no," she continues before essentially forcing Caro off her brother and out of the room, and Marco looks confused for a second, his eyes unseeing, but then Mario sees the flip switch in his mind when he finally realizes that Mario is in fact standing in his room.  
  
It's at that moment that Mario remembers that his legs do work, and he takes a few steps back, not taking his eyes off Marco. "I'm just gonna..." He mutters, but he doesn't think it really necessary to continue.  
  
"NO!" Marco jumps off his bed in what can only be described as a state of utter panic. "Mario, don't." He's crossed the room in two strides and pulling Mario back by his elbow before he can leave the room.  
  
Mario doesn't say anything, standing still with Marco's fingers wrapped around his elbow, all the energy suddenly drained out of him.  
  
Why does the only boy he's ever truly cared about seem to do nothing but hurt him?  
  
Melanie clears her throat, seemingly having gotten lost in the exchange in front of her. She looks at her brother, and Mario can see the anger in her eyes even before he hears it in her voice. "That was-"  
  
"The first and last time this happens," Marco cuts her off before she can get another word in and Melanie nods at him before getting out of the room and shutting the door behind her.  
  
It takes a few minutes for Mario to register that he's alone with Marco now, and his heart beats wildly in his chest when he does. Marco still hasn't let go of his arm and he can feel his eyes on him. It makes the hairs at the back of his neck stand up.  
  
"Sunny."

Marco's voice is barely above a whisper. It puts Mario on edge.

"What?" He barks at him, anger seeping through his voice when he finally turns to look at him, surprising even him.  
  
Marco flinches, probably not expecting this particular reaction out of the usually quiet boy and it makes Mario's insides hurt.  
  
"I-" Marco fumbles, struggling to get a grip on his words. "I, um, I missed you. I _miss_ you."  
  
"You certainly got a funny way of showing it," Mario mutters and a bitter laugh escapes him.  
  
Marco's eyes flash and Mario can see his temper flaring.  
  
"You're one to talk."  
  
"I never said I missed you."

He wants to take the words back as soon as they're out of his mouth.  
  
"Well then what is it that you fucking want from me here, Sunny, because I don't know anymore!" Marco's voice is rising, and he finally lets go of Mario and takes a step back, raising his hands up in frustration. He takes a deep breath before continuing. "I don't know what to do here. I thought I was reading the signs right, but then I kissed you and you actually skipped town!"

"I didn't go to Bavaria because you kis-"

"You basically blew me off for the entire break. I thought it would be okay once we were back in school, but you won't talk to me, you won't even look at me. If you didn't want me to kiss you, then all you had to do was push me away. But I don't understand why you had to shut me out of your life like our friendship or whatever the fuck you want to call it means nothing to you." If only he knew how wrong he was. "We haven't really known eachother for that long, Sunny, but I thought I'd rated at least a little more than that to you."  
  
He looks so fucking lost and Mario hates that he's the reason behind that. He just wants to pull him into his arms but he's so afraid of how good it will feel, and what it would mean to openly put himself at the mercy of someone.  
  
"Caro was just there," Marco whispers after a minute. "She saw that I was feeling bad, that I _am_ feeling bad, and she just wanted to make me feel a little better."  
  
"Does it feel better?"  
  
"No," Marco admits, his voice broken and too low for Mario's liking. He takes a few steps back towards his bed before sitting on the edge with his hands in his lap, looking up at Mario with tired eyes. "You being here makes no sense right now. What do you want from me?"  
  
Mario takes a deep breath before walking closer to Marco. He stops when he's right in front of him, kneeling until they're on eye-level. He reaches out for Marco's wrists, starts fingering the threads around them like he loves to do so much. It's now or never.  
  
"Call me old-fashioned, but I don't like seeing the guy I'm into make out with other people," he whispers his confession, averting his eyes and focusing on Marco's wrists instead, the milky flesh peaking through the abused black threads.  
  
"So you're into me?"  
  
"At this point you've got to be the only person on the planet who's not aware of this," Mario chuckles, finally looking up at Marco, and he feels his heart skip a beat when a tiny smile graces his friend's lips. That's a step in the right direction. "Ann reminds me of it on a daily basis," Mario rambles, rolling his eyes at the thought of his best friend. "I'm pretty sure even Thomas noticed at Mats' party."  
  
Marco snorts lightly, turning one of his arms under Mario's and starting to draw nameless patterns on Mario's wrist. Mario feels a shiver run through him at the feathery touch, losing balance and ending up on his butt. His cheeks color on their own accord because embarrassment is his middle name, but he can't even be mad at Marco when he barks out a laugh, because the next minute he's joined him on the floor, sitting cross-legged right in front of him, reaching for his wrist again to continue his ministrations. Mario sits upright in front on him, his legs spread on either side of Marco, their hands meeting in the middle.  
  
"So what are you saying?" Marco asks after a minute, his eyes hopeful as he looks up at him.  
  
"I don't know yet," Mario admits. "I like you, Marco. So much that it scares me most of the time because you can hurt me without even trying."  
  
"You do realize this goes both ways, though? That you can hurt me just as easily?"  
  
"Yes," Mario sighs, aware that he's already done that by shutting him out for three weeks. "I just need some time to figure it out before I can start owning up to it."  
  
"Okay." Marco sounds solemn, so patient, so fucking at peace with it all, and it throws Mario off a little.  
  
"What?" He asks, and if it comes out a little defensive Marco doesn't comment on it.  
  
"Take your time figuring it out."

Marco nods like they're not discussing their potential relationship.  
  
"And you?"  
  
"I've already got it figured out," he states, looking at his fingers on Mario's arm. "I won't be making out with anyone," he says simply, and the certainty he says it with tugs at Mario's heart. "Unless you're up for it," he continues a second later, that infamous half-smirk that Mario hates - loves - finally making an appearance.  
  
"Not with that face I'm not," Mario teases and Marco chuckles delightedly. Mario has never seen anyone so amused at being insulted.  
  
The air is thick all of a sudden with the admission, both boys now aware that there is something developing there, and while it might not be completely out in the open, it's enough for them to know it for the time being.  
  
Mario looks around Marco's room for a second, taking in the familiar surroundings he's come to love, and his eyes land on Marco's iPod dock in the corner when he remembers. He pulls his hands from Marco's, the other boy's face flashing with worry at the movement, and Mario hates himself for turning Marco into someone as paranoid as him. He flashes him his most reassuring smile before leaning back to fish around for his wallet in his front pocket. He pulls out a wrinkled envelope from his wallet and hands it to Marco before stowing his wallet back in his pocket and moving his hands to rest them on Marco's folded legs.  
  
"Merry Christmas," he whispers and Marco looks up at him for a second before turning back to the small package.  
  
His eyes bulge out of their sockets when he pulls out the two wrinkled Jay Z concert tickets, looking from Mario to the tickets and back again.  
  
"But- but these are sold out!" He panics, turning the tickets in his hands to check that they're real.  
  
Mario's smile widens at his reaction, an affectionate laugh bubbling in his throat.  
  
"I bought them back in November when they first went on sale," Mario waves him off.  
  
"You bought me my Christmas present when you'd been barely tutoring me for two weeks?" Marco asks, finally losing the shocked look, his face lighting up in a smile instead.  
  
"I'm very impressionable," Mario shrugs.  
  
He's barely managed to get the words out before he's knocked backwards, Marco's arms circling his waist as he lands on top of him, and yeah okay, he's missed Marco's tackle hugs more than he can put into words.  
  
"Go easy on me," Mario tries to scold, but the laughter in his voice belies him. "I'm an old man."  
  
He wraps his arms around Marco, holding on tightly, for the first time surrendering himself completely to the need to be closer to him.  
  
"Thank you," Marco whispers into his ear, his voice muffled by Mario's shoulder, before he pulls back a little to look at him.  
  
He props himself on his elbow, half lying on top of Mario on his bedroom floor, the plush grey carpet under them, and they look at eachother for a moment before Mario speaks.  
  
"I've already cleared it with both our parents since the concert's in Berlin. Fabian and Melanie are coming with us."  
  
"You asked my parents for permission to take me to a concert," Marco smiles at him, and Mario feels himself blush.  
  
"Don't be so dramatic about it," he shrugs it off with a laugh. "Thank you for my headphones, by the way."  
  
"I was worried you didn't like them. I haven't seen you using them at school."  
  
"They're still sitting unused by my bed," Mario admits, lifting one of his hands to play with Marco's hair. "Part of my 'stop-fucking-thinking-about-Marco' regimen." Marco chuckles quietly, but Mario swallows thickly. "I missed you too." He feels a weight lift off him at the whispered confession. He looks up at Marco when he feels his fingers on his cheek, his thumb stroking his blush.  
  
Marco's got an unsure look on his face, like he's trying to weigh the consequences of his next action, but before he can make a decision one way or the other, Mario closes the distance between them, pulling Marco closer until their lips meet. It's different than their first kiss, unhurried and tentative, their lips sucking and their tongues licking their way into eachother's mouths. Mario feels himself shudder under Marco when he bites on his lower lip, and they pull apart slowly, neither wanting to overwhelm the other. This is enough for now.  
  
Marco rests his forehead against Mario's, both basking in their proximity, and Mario doesn't open his eyes for a few heartbeats, relishing in the feeling of just being there with Marco. The blond still has his eyes shut when Mario opens his own, short puffs of breath ghosting over his cheeks, and Mario can't stop from reaching over to Marco's lips and touching them. Marco finally opens his eyes when he feels Mario's fingers on him, his gaze full of an emotion Mario's too scared to name.  
  
The light-haired boy closes the distance between them one last time, leaving a brief kiss on his lips before pulling away completely. He leans back to sit on his legs, a smile tugging on his lips, and when their eyes meet again, Mario returns it, reaching over to link their fingers together.

  
\-----

  
They spend the rest of the afternoon lying side by side on Marco's bed, catching up on everything they've missed the past few weeks. Mario thinks he might burst when Marco turns suddenly and leaves a kiss to his shoulder before resuming one of his many stories. He doesn't know how he's going to get used to Marco's random bursts of affection and the butterflies that subsequently riot in his stomach when they happen, but he sure as hell wants to.  
  
Marco's mom comes by a while later to check if Mario's staying for dinner, and her son's already told her yes before Mario can get a word in. She smiles warmly at them as she turns to leave, but before she can close the door behind her, a tiny blond ball of energy bursts into the room, speeding past her and jumping on Marco's bed.  
  
"Uncle Marco! Uncle Marco!" The little boy yells excitedly, wrapping his tiny arms around Marco's middle.  
  
"Nico!" Marco calls out, laughing at the small body suddenly on top of him, but the little boy is already straightening up with wide eyes, having noticed the other person on the bed.  
  
He yelps as he tries to get off the bed hurriedly, his cheeks flushing a magnificent shade of red. He struggles to jump off the mattress without falling down before running towards the door and retreating to hide behind the legs of the woman who just walked into the room.  
  
Mario straightens up when he sees her, the unfamiliar girl who looks so familiar, a perfect mix of Marco and Melanie. She's got a smile on her face that could light up an entire neighborhood, and Mario can see the small boy peeking at them behind her.  
  
"Hey Ivy," Marco smiles at her before jumping off the bed and walking over to hug her.  
  
"How's my favorite brother doing?" She teases in way of greeting, and Mario likes her already.  
  
"Much worse now that you're here," he shoots back.  
  
She sticks her tongue out a him once she lets go and Marco laughs good-naturedly. Her eyes find Mario, now standing awkwardly behind her brother, and Marco turns to look at him before it seems to dawn on him that they don't know eachother.  
  
"Ivy, this is Mario," he introduces, turning to look at him, and Mario feels himself go dizzy at the happy smile on Marco's face. "Mario, my sister Yvonne."  
  
"Mario?" Ivy asks, raising an eyebrow at him. "The same Mario he hasn't shut up about in over a month?" She adds, stepping closer to him, and Mario swears his cheeks are on fire. Even Marco who's usually so cool about practically everything is blushing. "It's nice to finally meet my brother's boyfriend."  
  
"Ivy, he's not-"  
  
"Nice to meet you too," Mario replies, and it's worth it if only to see the look on Marco's face at the backhanded confirmation.  
  
Mario clears his throat after a second, turning to look at the little boy who's now standing alone by the door, his cheeks still on fire, his blond hair falling into his eyes. Marco follows his line of vision and starts moving towards his nephew when he spots him.  
  
"And this," Marco starts as he kneels in front of the boy, stroking his hair affectionately, "is my favorite person in the whole entire world."  
  
The boy's face lights up like a Christmas tree, his smile so bright it puts the sun to shame.  
  
"You want to meet my friend Mario?" Marco asks, taking Nico's hand in his.  
  
The little boy nods exaggeratedly, locking his small hand around his uncle's. Marco stands up and they start walking towards Mario, Nico's eyes big and bright as he takes the new boy in. Yvonne takes the chance to escape the room, waving quietly at the boys before making her exit.  
  
"Mario, this is Nico."  
  
"Hi Nico," Mario says, kneeling in front of him. "I'm Mario."  
  
"Do you play football too?" Nico asks, and the way he's looking at Mario would make him uncomfortable if it were anybody else.  
  
"I do," Mario confirms, nodding his head and the boy smiles.  
  
"He plays almost as good as I do," Marco grins as he sits down and crosses his legs next to him, and Mario chuckles as he nudges him in the ribs.  
  
"You have very chubby cheeks," Nico informs, touching Mario's cheeks with his tiny palms, and Mario only grins wider. "And a very sunny smile," the boy adds. "I like it," he declares.  
  
Mario turns to raise his eyebrows at Marco who's got the biggest smile on his face and is staring at them like they make his world turn.  
  
"Are you sure he's not yours?"

  
\-----

  
Marco, it turns out, is Mario's first and last student. Guardiola informs him of that on a Monday. It's nothing to do with the result - because that was more than satisfactory - but mostly because Mario has his hands full with football practice, and all the other students who need tutoring are already covered anyway. The principal reluctantly admits to him that a big part of choosing him to tutor Marco had to do with keeping him busy enough to stay out of trouble. That proved to be successful enough with Mario's trips to detention becoming less and less frequent, even less so since joining the football team.  
  
Mario's nothing short of ecstatic at the news, because it means he can continue to spend his afternoons on Marco's bed, alternating between talking and making out and even occasionally studying.  
  
At school, it's slightly different. Marco and Mario are more inseparable than ever, but they keep their hands to themselves and their lips decidedly apart at all times. Mario's still not sure whether he wants them to go public or not, even if he's not so confused about his feelings for Marco anymore. He likes Marco. He wants to be with Marco. He is with Marco. There's another word he can use to describe his affection for Marco, but that one scares him too much to even think about, so he tries to keep his thoughts from straying to it.  
  
Mario and Marco's constant proximity means that their friends start hanging out with eachother a lot more, and nobody's more surprised than Mario when it takes Ann a mere two weeks to develop feelings for Thomas. Real romantic feelings. For Thomas Müller.  
  
They're hanging out in Mario's house when she tells him. Thomas is horsing around with her and Manu when she smears some frosting onto her cheek while laughing around her cupcake. Thomas stops his antics for a moment to wipe the smudge off her face, casually licking it off his finger, and Ann rushes out of the room in sudden panic, dragging Mario out of his conversation with Marco and Mats and into his bedroom where she proceeds to have a fully-fledged-breakdown over her very much real feelings for one Thomas Müller.

It takes her only a week to get over her initial shock and own up to it though, because, in Mario's own words, she is Ann-Kathrin fucking Brömmel and if she is insecure about herself, then there is no hope for the rest of humanity. So she walks up to Thomas right before practice one day and asks him out on a date.  
  
That was almost ten days ago, Mario muses as he watches Ann laugh loudly at one of Thomas' jokes, his arm wrapped carefully around her shoulder.  
  
He's sitting in a corner booth at their favorite diner, sandwiched between Marco and Nuri, casually observing the people around him. They only finished practice a while ago, but André and Montana suggested they go get something to eat, so here they were, half an hour and the entire football team later, causing a ruckus at one of the local diners to the waiters' greatest misery.  
  
Mario feels Marco link their fingers under the table, and when he looks at him, Marco's still way too engrossed in his conversation with Lukas that Mario wonders whether he's aware of his actions. He turns to see if anyone has noticed, but nobody seems to care. Ann is roping Thomas into taking a selfie with her, André and Montana are whispering conspiratorially with Manu, and Mats' face is buried so deep in Benni's shoulder Mario wonders for a second if he's breathing at all. He only relaxes when Mats comes up for air before sharing a laugh with Bastian who's on his other side.  
  
Mario squeezes Marco's hand a little, and the blond immediately turns to look at him. His eyes are searching but content, like he's a peace with it all, and Mario just... loves him. He does. There's no questioning it anymore. He might as well admit it to himself.  
  
"What?" Marco asks, his voice barely audible, scooting a little closer to Mario, like he's trying to disappear into him.  
  
"Nothing," Mario whispers. "I just," he hesitates for a second, but then he feels Marco's thumb run over his knuckles and he just knows. "I don't want to hide anymore."  
  
It take Marco less than a second to close the distance between them, their lips molding together perfectly, so familiar with eachother now and yet always so hungry for more, and Mario gets so lost in Marco that for a moment he forgets about the world.  
  
"I knew it!" Mats barks at them, snapping them both back to reality, and Mario pulls away to look at his dark-haired friend.  
  
He feels a laugh bubble up his throat as he takes in his wide-eyed face and impossibly large grin, turning back to look at Marco who's muttering curses under his breath, but he looks entirely too happy to convince anyone of his foul mood. Mario laughs even louder before hiding his face in Marco's shoulder, his blush making an expected appearance.  
  
Ann walks alongside him as they leave the diner a while later. They're heading over to Mats' house to watch some movie, and Ann pinches his waist lightly to grab his attention. Mario smiles at her and takes the opportunity to wrap his arm around her as they continue to make their way. They huddle together in the cold February air, clinging to eachother as they bask in their mutual happiness.  
  
"Oi!" They hear a voice behind them and they turn to find Thomas looking at them. "Hands off my woman!" He orders from his place next to Marco, but the tone in his voice suggests he's anything but serious, and both Mario and Ann burst out laughing before they proceed to ignore him and turn their attention back to the road.  
  
"I can't believe you're actually going out with Thomas Müller," Mario comments, looking down at Ann with a teasing smile.  
  
"I can't believe you're actually going out with Marco Reus," she counters, her perfect eyebrows raised.  
  
"And I can't believe I'm going out with Montana Yorke," André says out of nowhere, materializing out of thin air and wrapping his arms around both their shoulders.  
  
"Yeah, no one can believe that either," Ann shrugs and Mario's answering laugh echoes in the twilight.

  
  
\-----

  
Their concert weekend in Berlin ends up being even better than expected. Fabian and Melanie, it turns out, are just there for show. They leave them mostly unbothered and even let them room together - which Mario and Marco take full advantage of.  
  
They lie in bed for a long time after the concert, still high on the feeling of dancing and jumping around and singing in tandem with twenty thousand people. Marco's on his back, staring thoughtfully at the ceiling, one of his hand buried in Mario hair, combing through the brown locks and lulling Mario slowly into slumber. The latter is lying on his front a little further down on the bed, his head propped on Marco's stomach, drawing nameless shapes onto his boyfriend's pale chest.  
  
"So, I was thinking," Marco starts, clearing his throat and startling Mario out of his trance. He sounds slightly nervous and Mario furrows his brow curiously at him. Marco's fingers are still furiously combing through his hair, and Mario presses a kiss to his stomach in a reassuring manner. "We don't have to if you're not up for it, cause I know you're not really someone who particularly enjoys school functions or big crowds, definitely not school functions that have big crowds-"  
  
"Marco," Mario interrupts his rambling, raising one perfectly shaped eyebrow at him. "Get to the point."  
  
"Doyouwantogotopromwithme?"  
  
"What?" Mario asks, lifting himself higher on the bed, high enough that his chin is now propped up on Marco's chest, their faces inches apart.  
  
He takes in Marco's face, really takes him in for probably the first time ever, and his breath catches in his throat. He can see every freckle on Marco's nose even in the dim light, can count every one of his eyelashes if he wants to. Marco looks back at him with the same intensity, his eyes searching, the corner of his mouth lifting just a fraction. One of his dimples makes an appearance, and Mario can't stop himself from reaching out to touch it delicately, one of his fingers grazing Marco's lips, almost afraid he'll break under his hand.  
  
"I was thinking we could go to Prom together." Marco's voice is barely a whisper, his breath tickling Mario's fingers.  
  
"I would say you're doing it to try to get into my pants, but..."  
  
Mario looks pointedly at his pants thrown haphazardly on the floor and Marco chuckles lightly under him, deep in his chest where Mario can feel it. He scoots close enough for their lips to touch, pressing a murmured yes into his skin before pulling back, the soreness in his lower back when he shifts a little reminding him exactly why they can't get lost in the moment again. He winces at the sudden discomfort, his eyes squeezing shut for a second before he feels Marco's palm on his lower waist, long fingers soothing against the curve of his ass as they rub gently in a shy attempt to take some of the pain away. Mario presses another kiss into Marco's skin, reveling in the feeling of his boyfriend under him, resting his head against his collarbone.  
  
"I'm serious, though," Marco murmurs after a few moments, nudging Mario's temple with his nose in an effort to get him to look at him. "If you're not feeling this prom thing-"  
  
"Ugh, Marco, one would think you know me well enough by now to know I don't actually compromise unless it's something I want to do," Mario groans as he looks up at him. "I'm kind of insulted, if we're being completely honest here."  
  
"You're always insulted," Marco shrugs and Mario tries for his most offended look.  
  
"I resent that!"  
  
"See?" Marco nudges his cheek this time. "Insulted."  
  
"Whatever," Mario mumbles because clearly he's the king of comebacks. "I'm not doing it for you anyway. I have to be there to see Mats wave at his peasants when he's elected king. And besides, it will make Ann happy. She's been planning our prom outfits since the day we met."  
  
"Don't tell her you're going then. I can get so many favors out of her if she thinks I'm still trying to get you to agree."  
  
"I am not going to let you mooch off my best friend!" Mario tries for his most scandalized tone which only causes Marco to laugh at him.  
  
"Oh please, any idiot can see you've been doing for two years now," he counters and Mario can't keep the smile off his face.  
  
"Guilty," he admits, his grin only widening when Marco laughs louder. "Don't make a big deal out of this," Mario says before he can stop himself, "but I kinda love you."  
  
Marco's eyes widen for a second, his laughter dying on his tongue, but his features soften, the hand on Mario's ass wrapping itself around his waist to pull him even closer, his other hand combing through his hair again.  
  
Mario's not exactly sure why he thinks this is the right time to say it. Maybe because this is the first time that he's felt so completely happy, so content, so entirely whole. It might also have something to do with Marco looking at him like he's the only thing that matters in the world, like the sun and the moon and the sea and the universe pale in comparison to him.  
  
"Yeah," Marco whispers after a while, scooting closer to claim Mario's lips once more. "I kinda love you too."

  
\-----

 

 

Prom is exactly how Mario always imagined it: Loud and obnoxious and ridiculously over-the-top, with crappy music and terribly spiked punch to boot, and when he finds himself in the middle of the overcrowded dance floor with Mats' flashy crown on his head, jumping up and down with Thomas and Mats and Andre as Marco and Ann dance circles around them, Mario knows he's never had so much fun in his life.

Graduation, on the other hand, turns out to be so much more bittersweet than he ever thought possible. In his overly active imagination, he'd always thought he couldn't wait to get out of Dortmund, couldn't wait to finally leave school and go and explore the world, but then Marco happened and everything went to shit. The realization that he would be heading to Munich with Ann and Thomas less than a month later while Marco stayed in Dortmund with Mats hits him with full force smack in the middle of his Valedictorian speech, and his heartbeat quickens as he struggles to breathe, stumbling on a few words. But then he finds Marco in the crowd, his eyes bright and happy and so green in the afternoon sun, and when he flashes him a smile, Mario feels his heart stop. They'll be okay. He finishes his speech with flourish before accepting his diploma, but he still cries a little when they drive André to the airport that night to catch his flight to London.

Marco refuses to say goodbye to him when he drives him to the airport a few weeks later. He hugs him for a really long time before they have to separate, and Mario takes the opportunity to memorize everything about him in that moment, his smell and the way his arms feel around his shoulder, the way his light stubble tickles Mario's neck where he's buried his face, the way his fingers grip at the back of his shirt. And when they pull apart to look at eachother, how green and soft and loving his eyes look when he takes him in, the way his blond locks fall into those eyes, and most importantly, the way his mouth quirks at one end when he flashes him that crooked grin that drives Mario up the walls before he whispers "See you later, Sunny."

 

 

\-----

 

"Oh my Goood!" Melanie's barely opened the door before she's screaming and on Mario, her arms tight around his neck as she crushes him into a hug.

"I missed you too, Mel," Mario chuckles as he returns the hug just as eagerly, surprising even himself by how much he's actually missed Marco's loud sister.

"I thought you weren't coming til next week!" She pulls back suddenly, her voice still too loud for Mario's poor fragile ears, but it's Melanie, so he's not really expecting anything less.

"The official story is I'm not. I wanted to surprise Marco."

"He is going to flip," Melanie laughs giddily, rubbing her hands together conspiratorially as she moves aside to let Mario in.

Mario stops for a second in the doorway, about to take off his coat and leave it on the hanger before he remembers that Marco might see it. He keeps it on instead and takes a peek around the hallway. "He's not home, right?" He asks just to be sure.

"No, but he should be back soon with Ivy and Nico."

"Good. I was thinking I would wait for him in his room," Mario explains, his cheeks flushing lightly.

Truth be told, he doesn't really want his first moments back with boyfriend to be in front of everyone. It's bad enough that he has to surprise him at home and not at the apartment Marco shares with Mats since he's already home for the holidays, he really doesn't want Marco's parents to see just how completely gone Mario is for their son, and he's missed him so much he doesn't know if he'll be able to stop himself from doing something stupid like jumping his bones the minute he lays eyes on him.

"I see how it is," Melanie laughs before she winks at him and Mario remembers this is the same girl who posed as their chaperone in Berlin when all she did was allow them as much privacy as they could afford. If anyone understands, it's definitely her. "He's going to love his surprise."

"Let me just say hi to your parents first."

Melanie puts her arm around him as she leads him to the kitchen where Marco's parents are. His mom cries a little when she sees him, pulling him into a bone-crushing hug and Mario can't help but smile and return the hug with just as much affection. Even Marco's dad who's never particularly shown enthusiasm around him seems to be ecstatic to see him, and he wraps his arms around him in a brief welcoming hug before Mario excuses himself to hide in Marco's old room.

His heart squeezes in his chest when he steps into the room, the place where it all started. He takes it all in, the beige walls and wool carpet, the stack of sports magazines on the desk, the corkboard with all the pictures - now mostly pictures of them - and he's surprised when it feels a little like coming home.

He pulls his jacket and scarf off, adds them to the pile of clothes on the desk chair, toes off his boots next to Marco's old cleats and makes his way over to the bed. He lies on the familiar bed that smells so much like Marco, his arms behind his head as he stares at the ceiling, thoughts full of Marco and tutoring sessions and stolen kisses on this bed.

He doesn't know how long he's been lying here before he hears the bedroom door open and close. He turns his head to look at the intruder and his breath catches in his throat when he finally sees Marco, pretty much like it always does around his boyfriend. The blond is typing furiously on his phone, too lost in his text to notice him. It's not until Mario's own phone pings in his pocket that Marco looks up with a dazed look on his face, and it takes him a few seconds to react to Mario's figure on his bed.

"Wha-" Marco startles, eyes wide and mouth hanging open, frozen to the spot as Mario sits up on his bed with a growing smile. "Whe-" He tries again. "When did- How-" He's fumbling for words and Mario loves him.

Before his boyfriend can try - and fail - to get another word in, Mario's on his feet and in front of him, his shaking arms wrapping themselves around Marco as he buries his face in his neck. It takes Marco a second more to register what's happening, that Mario's here and real and in his room and around him, and it's all it requires for him to loop his arms around his waist in a grip so tight Mario can hardly breathe, but he doesn't care about breathing right now, not when he can finally feel Marco against him, feel his heartbeat against his, his breath on his neck and his skin under his fingers.

"How are you here?" Marco finally manages to find his words, but he only tightens his hold on Mario, his breath tickling Mario's neck where his lips are pressing the words into his skin.

"I wanted to surprise you." Mario is pretty sure his heart might burst out of his chest.

"You have no idea how much I missed you," Marco murmurs in his ear before pulling slightly away, enough to look at Mario, his eyes shining and his lips quirking into a smile.

"I'm pretty sure I do," Mario argues before he kisses Marco like he's been wanting to since he last saw him at that airport in Dortmund.

They're so lost in eachother they don't realize how long they stay like that in the middle of the room, too caught up in their reunion, and they only break apart when they hear a loud bang at the door. They've barely managed to detach their lips when the door bursts open and in comes running a tiny head of blond hair.

"MARIO! MARIO! MARIO!"

Mario bursts into laughter when Nico jumps on him knocking him backwards and making him lose his footing, and thank fuck for Marco's bed because he'd be on his way to the hospital right now otherwise. Nico doesn't let any of that deter him however, scrambling up the bed and hugging Mario's middle with his tiny arms, yelling about pretzels and football and chubby cheeks.

"I missed you too, buddy," Mario manages through his laughter, hugging the small boy as he struggles to get up. He looks up at Marco when he finally does, Nico's arms not letting go of his legs. "Are you absolutely sure he's not yours?"

Marco's booming laughter can be heard all the way downstairs.

 

 


End file.
